100-Drabble Challenge
by Eldhoron
Summary: Hello! These are my drabbles based on the prompts from NirCele's 100-Drabble Challenge. Most of the drabbles will be either set in Mirkwood/Greenwood the Great and will feature characters from there (mostly Elros the Guard) or be set in Rivendell/Imladris and featuring elves from there. Please enjoy!
1. Anyone of Us

**Alrighty, this is my first drabble in the Challenge. I hope you guys like it. Elros's brother is an OC named Elvorn. He is a carpenter. I'll try to expand him** **in later stories:) Please read, enjoy, and review. Thank you!**

 _It could have been either of us_. Elros thought unbearably. _Why hadn't it been them? Why hadn't it been him? _Guilt gnawed at his mind. He and his brother were the only ones to have survived the attack. Everyone else had died. Images of their broken bodies crowded his thoughts. The sound of their screams threatened to overwhelm him. The smell of blood promised to never leave him. He wanted to curl into a ball and cry. He did. His wife and his son were dead. He replayed the ordeal over and over again in his mind searching for a way out. _Surely he could have done something different. Something that would have changed the outcome._

His brother beside him was in the same state. His family had been murdered as well. Elros up-righted himself then moved to his brother's sobbing form. He couldn't have been there for his family; he had to be there for his brother. He wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders trying to be as strong as he could. "Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath." He whispered; the words pierced his heart deeper than any sword. The two of them stayed that way till daybreak.

 **"Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath" is a Sindarin way of saying "May they rest in peace". It is most often said with one's hand to his heart.**


	2. Plants

**I rolled my dice and Fate chose Plants, so, here is my drabble prompted by the word _Plants_. Please read, review, and enjoy!**

The queen had always possessed a strong affinity for going barefoot on the grass. Often she and the king would walk together in that manner in the secret gardens of the palace; or lay on the soft, sweet lawn whispering lover's secrets and laughing for no reason at all; or dance light heartedly, trampling with abandon the slender shafts beneath their soles.

Now, however, life was different. The queen was gone. Grass, it seemed, had lost all softness. The world had lost all softness. His kingdom was deep underground now where nothing grew. The Greenwood was dying, and the only thing beneath his feet was the cold, hard stone.


	3. One the Brink

**I meant to publish this on Wednesday. It is part one of two. Based right after _Anyone of Us_. Please read, review, and enjoy!**

Elros stood on the brink. With every swift stroke of his blade, he cut down another one of the foul creatures that had murdered his wife and son. Beside him, four others who had also had their families slaughtered fought the band of orcs. Each felt drowned in varying degrees of anger.

Rage filled his soul, fuelling every one of his movements. If only he could cause the orcs the pain that they had caused him. If only the miserable beasts could be hurt in such a way as they had hurt him. He wrenched his sword from his opponent's midsection then turned to the next. His attack intensified. He hated the barbaric creatures. One by one, Elros and the others slew them until he and his brethren stood breathless and alone among the lifeless corpses.


	4. Mixed Feelings

**Here is Part Two.**

Elros stood surrounded by the carnage he and the others had wrought. His ragged breathing formed small puffs of vapour that vanished in the icy air. His body shook with the after-effects of adrenaline. Now that his anger was subsiding, his awareness slowly reverted back to reality. He sheathed his sword and swallowed hard.

On one hand, doubt gnawed at him; questions filled his mind. What would he tell his wife when they were reunited in Valinor? How would she react when she discovered what he had done in her name?

On the other hand, however, he had only done what was right. His family was avenged. If he had not done something, the foul creatures would have only ruined someone else's life. It was their nature. Right?

Elros took a deep breath and pushed the agonising thoughts away. He would have to come to a conclusion, but not today. He looked around. The four elves who had accompanied him were recovering as well. Elvorn was beginning to pile the orc carcases.

Taking another deep breath, Elros moved to aid his brother.

 **I hope you liked it. I really enjoyed writing this one. Please, let me know how you like it! :)**


	5. Pet

**Merry Christmas! Mellonenin!**

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Elrohir looked upon the creature; he seemed to be awed by its flat face. Elladan looked upon the creature as well; he did not see anything worthy of awe on it.

They stood like that for longer than Elladan wished and shorter than Elrohir wanted. Elrohir's eyes were fixed on the small dog's bulging, dark eyes and many wrinkles. It sat obediently in front of the twins; its head was cocked and it was patiently waiting for one of them to reach down to pet him.

Finally, their father rushed to the brother's side. "Boys, I thought I told you to stay with me?" He asked rhetorically. He gently took the young elflings's shoulders and began to guide them away. Enraptured, Elrohir didn't budge.

Elladan looked up at his father. "I think it cast a spell on him, _ada_."

Elrond let go of Elladan's shoulder and grimaced. He groaned inwardly; they had to be going soon if they were to get back to Imladris before sundown. He crouched down behind Elrohir and snapped his fingers next to the boy's ear.

Elrohir started and quickly whirled to face his father. His eyes lit up when he saw him, " _Ada_! I found it! Can I keep it?"

Elrond just sighed…

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 **Please review! I love them and they totally make my day :)**


	6. Breaking the Habit

**Merry Christmas! Here is another one just because it is Christmas Eve Eve :)**

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He was always hearing them. They never seemed to relent. Every day, it was the same thing over and over again.

"You are the keeper of the keys. Don't you lose my prisoners."

After a while he had simply stopped listening to the warnings. They never had any prisoners anyway. There were far more important things for him to be doing than constantly worrying over his keys. He could be used anywhere else. Surely, there was something else for him to do?

One day, however, he _did_ have prisoners, and he had failed to keep them. He had effectively become elven-kind's biggest failure.

When he looked back on that day, he realised that he should have been more steadfast. He should have been more resolute. He shouldn't have listened to Galion. He should have refused that accursed wine.

"I swear," he muttered. "I will never taste wine again."

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 **The pug in the previous drabble is officially named Pudgy! Compliments to LadyLindariel :)**


	7. Learning

**Sorry I didn't post this Wednesday. I hope you like. Please review!**

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Hands held behind his back, Legolas stood silent and obedient in front of his father. The king had been pacing in front of his throne, lecturing for over half an hour. Thranduil's hands animated his discourse. "The people will look…"

Finally, his father paused to take a breath. He looked down on the young prince. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

Legolas nodded; he was trying to look truthful. Thranduil smiled then kneeled down and looked into his son's eyes. "Son," he placed his hands upon Legolas's small shoulders. The young ellon met his eyes with near perfect replicas of his own blue eyes. "Language is the most important thing. Your words will carry power. Every single one _needs_ to _mean_ something."

Years later, he finally, really, understood what his father had meant.


	8. I Am Still Here

**Please Review!**

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His scream resounded off the cedar panelled walls, voiceless. It was always the same. He had stopped hearing it after many years. The noise had long blended into the background of sounds which he had never known he couldn't live without. An unbearable silence replaced his hoarse cries.

The grey, stone floor yielded no reflection. Locked in this psuedo-hell, he had not seen another elven face for ages.

He cried out again, proclaiming his old name. It made no sound. Once more, his former mantle echoed unheard throughout the silent halls. Fëanor slumped down to the floor, beaten. Did he regret his choice? After ages in these desolate rooms, yes.

Would he do it over and choose the other path? No.


	9. Connecting the Dots

**Please read, review and Enjoy!**

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"Don't you see the connection?"

Water rushed beneath them. A deadly torrent.

"No, I don't. Should I see a connection?"

The air was misty and cool. The stone bridge beneath them was wet.

"You are an elf, so, yes; you should see a connection."

Small, clear droplets of liquid formed on the tops of their black, leather boots.

"Why?"

Far away, the sound of lyres and gentle singing could be heard.

"Don't you like the stars?!"

The other did not fail to see the dodged question.

"Of course I like the stars!"

His deep voice echoed throughout the gorge.

"Then why can't you see it?"

Elrohir squinted at the velvet sky.

"I see… a horse."

Elladan rolled his eyes.

"You see that?!"

Elrohir nodded.

"I can't tell if you are serious or not."

This time Elrohir rolled his eyes.


	10. Hierarchy

Elros leaned back into his favourite chair. He was in his room in the palace. The small chamber was lit only by two small candles sitting on his desk. That was alright. Elros didn't mind the darkness. Today had been a good day. He smiled contently and leaned further into the comfortable chair. It creaked under his weight, but held firm. He folded his hands across his chest. Today he had been promoted from Head Watchman of the Bridge to Chief Warden of the Lower Halls. He was moving up. His thoughts drifted languidly down the long road he had taken to reach this point in his life. The hardships, the pain, the sheer, gruelling labour. He smiled again despite the hint of pain beginning to chip at his heart. He would keep moving up. Of that, he was certain.


	11. A Simple Delight

The small, brown dog kept barking. He wouldn't stop. Elrond exhaled deeply and put down his pen. The lord of Imladris sat in his private office working on various bits of paperwork. He wondered what was troubling the dog. Whatever the reason, the constant yowling was extremely distracting

Elrond closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Focus," he told himself, trying to concentrate on the sound of his own voice. He opened his eyes. Much to his surprise, the barking had halted. "Thank Elbereth," he breathed. Smiling, he picked up the quill and continued writing.

Elrond was undisturbed for several minutes before a warm weight pressing against the top of his right boot startled him from his work. Surprised by the unexpected sensation, he peeked under the desk. There, curled up and using Elrond's foot as a pillow, was Pudgy. The dog appeared to be on the verge of sleep. His short, raspy breaths were remarkably loud. Elrond sighed. It seemed that the little dog could not be silenced even in sleep. Still, at least his feet would stay warm. Elrond thought, half-smiling, as he quietly got back to work.


	12. Language Lesson

**The first is in Sindarin; the second is the non-literal translation. I hope you like it!**

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Elros pant lim dad bendrath, toged an bar-en-gwîn*, cenn Galion. I dawar hamp na I harf* teiliol erui deilien nebar*. Lom a naer Galion. Elros istas den* I brestannen I dawar. Hamp na vellon nîn.

Pent, "Man prestannen le?"

Ú-tiria Galion I dirithor*. Cúant Elros or sarf a peniant renc nîn erin harf*, ú-aníra pen cen en*. Glinnant ceni ossam a genn I ú-ben non ennas. Abistas I tiriol ú-ben, peniant breged renc nîn o Galion.

Evenn rhaw Galion dara hí. "Man carog?!" *Girnt lim I lammad dîn.

"Lastannen sí iston, I eingarnen, ten nesta*." Pent Elros be champ addad. Agor I lammad dîn dofn. "Cenin I aweg vaur anden, mellonenin. Iston den* I presta le. Le ú-naun be gin abphent I aran phith hain angina. No raeg. Ú-le ú-nad. Ú-annin."

Tiriant Galion na Elros. Uiaw I dirithor* ven cari 'elir Galion. "Hannon le, mellonenin." Toltha phith gîn eithas* annin.

Pladant Elros tharcham Galion. "Ni gelir I aen car." Tiriant Elros na harf*. "Anírog teilio?"

XxX

As Elros stepped lightly down the stairway, leading to the cellars, he found Galion sitting at a table, playing solitaire. The Silvan elf was tired and sad. Elros knew why. He sat down beside his friend.

"May I ask what is troubling you?" He said.

Galion did not look up. Elros leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the table as nonchalantly as he could. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Once he was certain no one was around, spontaneously hugged the elf.

Galion stiffened immediately. "What are you doing?!" His voice slightly trembled.

"I heard it worked wonders if you did it just right." Elros said as gently pulled away. He lowered his voice. "I also thought you needed it, dear friend. I know that which is troubling you. You have not been yourself since the king said those things about you. He is wrong, friend. You are not easily replaced. Not to me."

Galion smiled at Elros. The guard always had a way of comforting him. "Thank you, dear friend. Your words bring comfort to me."

Eros smiled back at Galion. "I am glad they can." He glanced at the cards on the table. "What do you say we play a match?"

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 **This drabble took a tremendous amount of work to produce. I would like to thank: my beta Aria Breuer; NirCele for letting me reference her story, Glorfindel Goes Hug-Wild Crazy; and Professor Tolkien for creating this beautiful language in the first place. I am sorry if I forgot anyone else! Thank you all!**

 **Thank you to my readers as well! Please leave a review to let me know how you liked it!**

 _ ***Words with an asterisk were reconstructed by either me or another Sindarin translator.**_


	13. Fellow Sufferer

"ADA!"

Elrond's head jerked upon hearing the high-pitched yell. Beside him, Celebrían also startled. She gave her husband a worried glance. Elrond immediately put down the book he had been reading and rose. Celebrían followed him as he made his way towards where the voice had emanated.

"ADA!" The shrill voice called again.

Elrond sighed in frustration it was probably Elladan who was calling, but one could never be too certain. Both of the twins had a bad habit of calling for him in such a manner that made their father think one of them was literally dying. He felt his wife's small hand touch his bicep. The touch soothed his frustration. However, the feeling only lasted a moment then vanished when he beheld his sons. The twins were viscously wrestling on the newly-watered grass. Elrond quickly pulled them apart. Elrohir had a bloody nose. Behind him, his wife gasped lightly.

"Who did what?" Elrond demanded firmly holding each by the arm.

Elladan burst into tears, "Ada…he copy me!"

Elrohir shot daggers at his brother. "NO!"

Elrond gave the younger twin a hard stare. "Are you lying?"

Elrohir's face suddenly looked guilty. "No."

Elrond continued eyeing Elrohir. Elladan was still quietly sniffling. After a few moments, a silver tear dribbled down Elrohir's cheek, and the elfling looked at the ground. "Yes."

Elrond glanced up at his wife. A cue she read easily. Gently but firmly, she took Elrohir by the shoulder and led him away saying, "Come along, Elrohir. Let's take a look at your nose."

Elrond turned to face Elladan. He let go of his arm and squatted beside his eldest. "Stop crying," he said gently. The young elf did an admirable job trying.

"I sorry."

Elrond took him into his arms. The elfling's hug was so vigorous that it knocked the elven lord onto his backside. Elrond chuckled. "You forget. I used to have a younger twin. He would copy me _all_ the time."

Elladan pulled away slightly. His grey eyes sparkled with surprise. "Uncle Elros?"

Elrond smiled. "Yes, your Uncle Elros."


	14. Fell Creatures

_**Vague on purpose :)**_

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The huge beast clamped its heavy jaw around his leg. He cried out and desperately strained for his fallen sword. The warg was a dirty brown colour. Its fur stank horribly and looked sticky with blood. Its sadistic red eyes met his own. The creature seemed to relish his pain. It increased the pressure on his leg. Filthy, yellow-stained, teeth dug deeper into his leg. They were dull, but powerful. He screamed again. His fingers groped the bloody ground frantically searching; searching for his weapon. Another dizzying wave of searing agony coursed through his failing body. A sickening crunch came from his leg. For a split second, he couldn't believe the sound had come from him. His vision began to darken. Reality was slipping out from underneath him. Vertigo whirled his senses into a torrent of false sensations. The beast violently twisted his leg. He felt a raw scream leave his throat, but he heard it not as his soul left his body.

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 _ **Please leave a review!**_


	15. Hidden

**This is one of three. The first centering on Elrohir, the second centering on Elladan, and the third centering on Glorfindel. These drabbles are inspired from an over-exposure to LadyLindariel's story The Breaking. :)**

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It was all a façade. A smile thrown out there. A joke slipped into a dying conversation. Every time it was the same thing. He had to keep on. He couldn't let them see. He couldn't bear to heap his troubles on them. He was broken and torn inside, but, so were they. He was tormented daily by this pain; they were assailed as well. The constant suppression of his feelings was wearing him out. He groaned mentally as the grief nearly overwhelmed him again. The temptation to open the water shed and be free knocked at the door of his heart. He pushed the thought away like he always did and cracked a smile as he made a witty remark in response to his brother's comment.


	16. Hatred

**Elladan**

He made a brief remark to keep the conversation going. For a moment, there was silence. He almost panicked thinking that perhaps the statement had been too strained. His twin replied with a smile. Inwardly, Elladan sighed. Holding up this mask was beginning to drain him, but he couldn't let anyone see beneath it. What would they think if they were to see how much rage and hatred he kept locked inside? It was easier to be angry then to feel the hurt. It was easier to burn then to fall apart. He forced himself back into reality and answered Glorfindel's question.


	17. From Afar

**Glorfindel**

Guilt gnawed at his soul. It silently chipped away at his barriers as he watched the two sons of Elrond engage in laidback chatter. He knew it was all an act. This quiet illusion of ease was exactly that. An illusion. Their empty words subtly echoed their true feelings. He felt utterly helpless. As if he stood behind a glass wall, he watched them slowly destroying themselves, but was unable to help. From afar, he watched them suffer. There was nothing he could do. He had failed them, and now it was too late.


	18. Feuds

**A brief moment after the Battle Under Trees. Slightly off-canon.**

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"Ah, my cousin, you fought bravely." Celeborn offered the king his hand.

Thranduil was hesitant to take it, but relented when the other elf grinned enthusiastically and raised his eyebrows. Celeborn brought him close into a half-embrace. Thranduil could not help but smile as well and hug him back. His cousin knew how to lower his defences that was certain. Thoughts of their younger days in Doriath flashed through his mind. Old feuds quickly vanished from vigour of the light hearted moment. Suddenly, for a fleeting moment, all the death surrounding them from the previous battle didn't matter that much. The pain was still there. The death was still there. It loomed like a toxic vapour, but there was also hope. Eryn Lasgalen would come back.


	19. The Flag of Surrender

**Just a little something I came up with a while ago. Dedicated to my niece and nephew who would always pull this trick on me... Now I can too! :P**

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The two eflings watched his horse in wonder as he guided her into Rivendell. Their grey eyes sparkled with delight as they beheld his magnificent steed. Elrond stood not far away speaking with his advisor. The Man immediately recognised the young elflings as Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond. Smiling warmly, he crouched down in order to be at eye-level with the brothers. "Hello," he greeted. "You must be Elladan and Elrohir. I am Halgardh of the Dúnedain."

The young elflings looked at him; the one on the left nodded shyly.

"Greetings." He eyed them both in turn, "Which one of you is Elladan?"

Suddenly the twin on the right smiled mischievously. He tapped his brother's shoulder and whispered something. They both giggled.

Not expecting that, Halgardh wasn't able to catch their words. He motioned towards the whisperer. "Are you Elladan?"

The other answered in Sindarin. "Find lin sera naew lin a u-hera dôl lin?" Both elflings giggled again.

Halgardh frowned; he was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. "Uh… Do you speak Westron?"

The twins halted their laughter for a moment the whisperer's eye brightened once again. "Thostol sui hwand thaw." The other twin could not contain his laughter and joined his brother in more giggling.

By now, Halgardh felt very uncomfortable. The possibility that they were taking advantage of his ignorance concerning their tongue and making fun of him was highly likely. He rose and forced a smile. "You know what?" He reached down to pat each on the head, "never mind."

With that, he turned to face their father who was already walking towards the Great Hall. Behind him, the two brothers were still laughing uncontrollably.

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	20. Letters

"I'm almost done!" Elladan whined as he forcefully shoved his younger brother away. His constant hovering was getting annoying. Elrohir let out a deep groan. He sounded as if he were physically in pain. Elladan tried to ignore him and focused his attention on writing. Every stroke of the quill that he had "borrowed" from Erestor had to be perfect. He didn't want to mess this up. His brow furrowed in utmost concentration as he scratched another word into existence. The young elfling put all his thought into every small letter. It was difficult to keep the lines straight. Behind him, Elrohir sighed then leaned over Elladan's shoulder once again. Elladan jostled him back with his elbow as hard as he could.

"Ow!" Elrohir exclaimed as he recoiled back, holding his stomach.

"Just a few more words than you can sign it!" Elladan replied.

Elrohir let out an incoherent slur of words, but Elladan disregarded him. His small hand slowly spelled out the last words: "We love you!"

"There." He placed the quill down and admired his work proudly. He smiled and took up the pen and signed his name at the bottom of the card. Elrohir, who was now fully recovered from Elladan's blow, quickly snatched the pen and excitedly signed his own name.

"Nana is going to love it!"

Elladan nodded. "Yeah." Clutching the card close to his chest, he slipped off the chair, and ran off, followed closely by Elrohir, to find his mother.

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 **Please review.**


	21. Anatomy

**I have no idea.**

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Elrohir lay sprawled at the end of his bed. His head was propped up on his little arms and his bare feet rhythmically kicked the pillows in perfect time to an unheard melody playing in Elrohir's head. His grey eyes silently watched their small dog, Pudgy, sleeping in a corner. Elrohir's ebony locks cascaded wildly about his shoulders. Elladan was sitting on the floor near his own bed etching his name into the wood floor with a knife he had found in an unsuspecting elf's bag. The only noises were the sounds of Elladan's etching and Pudgy's snoring. Such pseudo-silence continued unhindered for a few moments until Elrohir broke it.

"Why don't elves have tails?" The young elf questioned to no one in particular.

Elladan looked up from his work and glanced at his twin, who remained transfixed by the dog, then at the dog itself. Pudgy did have quite an interesting tail. It was short, curly, thick, and reminded Elladan of a pastry for some reason.

"I don't know," he confessed.

Elrohir continued staring at the dog for a while then hastily rolled off the bed and onto his feet. "I'm gonna go ask Ada!"

With that, he bounded from the room. Elladan gave Pudgy and his tail one last look then returned to his carving. His brother was so weird.

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 **Please review.**


	22. Tears

He felt the tears welling in his eyes. As he looked upon that pitiful elleth kneeling beside her beloved. He felt the pain as if it had happened yesterday. To the Eldar, memory was like living day. He remembered the horrible ripping he had felt when his and his wife's fëa had been separated. He remembered crying. He remembered all of it like it was happening at this very moment. He didn't even hear himself as he whispered a hoarse "Yes" to Tauriel's statement about burying the dwarf. The pain was unbearable. And yet he didn't push it away like he had done before. This time he couldn't stop the pain with a callous heart. It was playing right in front of him in memory and in life.

His heart broke once more for Tauriel. She was too young to have to feel this pain. The pain of utter loss.

"Why does it hurt so much?" She asked between sobs. She desperately held the dwarfs hand against her chest not wanting to let go.

"Because it was real."

And real always hurt. No matter how hard you try to get over it or try to push it away. No matter how hard he tried to pretend he was okay or that it hadn't happened. Real always hurt.


	23. Threads

Legolas settled quietly into the chair opposite to his father. It was a fine morning in the Woodland Realm and father and son were sharing breakfast together like they usually did. As Legolas began to scrape jam onto his toast, his father finally looked up from his own meal, and nearly choked.

His son was dressed in the most ridiculous tunic. It was a garish shade of yellow; it had the sleeves ripped off, showcasing his muscular arms; and silver, rhinestone buttons trailing up the middle.

Legolas looked up startled at his father's behaviour. "Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern.

Thranduil suppressed his coughing and tried to compose himself as best to his ability. He gave his son a level stare. "May I ask what it is that you are wearing?" He desperately tried to keep his voice even.

Legolas grinned, and looked down at his attire then back at his father. His cerulean eyes sparkled with delight.

"Oh, I am so glad you noticed! This is something new! I wanted to try something different!" The elf said with all innocence.

"New?" Thranduil questioned straining to not sound horrified.

Legolas nodded eagerly.

Thranduil honestly didn't know what to say. He nodded back and pasted a smile onto his face. _"I suppose if he is happy…"_ he thought.

"Okay." Thranduil unobtrusively turned back to his breakfast, leaving his son to enjoy his new… thing.

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 **Please review. :)**


	24. Lifeline

**Part 1 of a four-part. This is really sad. Please leave me a review. I really do love them.**

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"No! You can't die! Please, no!" Elrohir pounded his fists into the blood-soaked ground. Tears traced their miniature paths down his mud-splattered face. His hair cascaded wildly over his shoulders. He knelt in the midst of chaos. All around him, elf and orc dealt out death and destruction, but he didn't notice any of them. His eyes remained fixed on the ragged, broken form of his twin brother. His oldest, best friend, his brother, his twin. He gingerly leaned over Elladan and took him into his arms. The world narrowed. It was just him and his dear brother for a long, agonising moment. "Please, don't go. I love you. Don't go!" He pleaded. "I can't live without you…" He sobbed, pressing his forehead gently against his brother's.

Suddenly, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and pull him from his brother. Numbly, he allowed the golden-haired elf take him away from Elladan as the other warriors quickly lifted Elladan from the ground…


	25. Wounds

Elrond's heart shattered at the sight of his eldest son's limp body being taken off the horse. He unconsciously brought his hand to his mouth. "No," he whispered. For a brief instant, he thought his eyes were deceiving him. He had long dreaded the day when one of his sons would come home… _Please, not my son,_ he thought. His emotions began to unravel and tears started their slow descent down his cheeks. Glorfindel ran towards him and took the elven lord hard by the shoulders. He looked frantic.

"Elrond, you need to help him!" He motioned for the elves to place Elladan on the floor at Elrond's feet then ordered them to retrieve the healer's supplies.

"I can't." Elrond stated. Elladan was haemorrhaging badly from a wound to his side. The sight stole his breath. This was his son. His son. Images flashed through his mind from Elladan's childhood. He couldn't work on him. What if he failed? What if he couldn't save him? What if he couldn't heal him? This was his little boy. He wouldn't be able to do it.

Glorfindel shook him and broke him from his reverie. "Elrond, you are the only one who can save him! Help him! He won't live for much longer without aid!" He met his friend's eyes. "Please."

The look of fear and pain in Glorfindel's eyes brought him partially back to reality. He nodded firmly. He would try…


	26. Falling

Elrond's strong arms shook violently as he ripped the clothes from the body of his son. Life was a blur. He didn't know what he was doing, but his hands moved with skill as he desperately tried to save his son.

On the inside he was falling apart. Fear was overwhelming. It seized his mind. He was on autopilot. Years upon years of training and practice guided his movements. It all felt like a dream. Like he was falling. Like he was slipping into an endless, unconscious dance. Tears fell from his cheeks mingling with the sweat now dripping down his nose. His heart raced at a feverish pace. His fingers stayed strong, however. His hands moved with able grace as they tended to the slash marring his son's body.


	27. Cowardice

Several days later…

Elladan opened his eyes a dull pain still throbbed from his side where he had been wounded. He had opened his eyes to this same sight every morning for longer than he cared to think about. It was a large room full of natural light. Birdsong wafted in from the open window. A soft breeze gently toyed with the sheer curtains. As always, his twin brother sat in the chair beside his bed. He was reading a book. When he noticed Elladan's wakefulness he immediately grinned.

"Good morning," Elrohir said gaily.

Elladan smiled at him. There was something he wanted to tell him. Something he had wanted to ask that had been bothering him since he first awoken days ago. Deciding to get it over with, he opened his mouth.

"Ro?"

Elrohir lifted his gaze from the book. "Yeah?"

Elladan's bravery left him the moment their silver eyes met. Cowardice made his mouth dry up. He coughed lightly. "Never mind."

Elrohir smiled again and his eyes lit with a bittersweet light. "Yeah, I love you that much."

Elladan felt tears well in his eyes. He leaned his head back onto the pillow so Elrohir couldn't see them. Elrohir brought his attention back to the book. Elladan let out a soft laugh. His brother had always been the more sentimental one. Always the first to cry, the first to laugh, and the first to whisper those healing words.

"Me too, you."


	28. Half-Way

**This a bit long. Hope you enjoy. :)**

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Elrohir stood with his back pressed against one of the walls in their bedroom. Elladan tip-toed to see over his twin's head. Pudgy happily danced in circles around their small feet; the twins' excitement rubbing off on him. Elrohir could barely stand still. Elladan pushed his brother's head lower. In his right hand he held a dripping quill.

"Stop moving!" Elladan whined.

Elrohir halted his squirming for a brief second. It was just long enough for Elladan to hastily scribble a mark on the wall. "There," the elder twin proclaimed.

Elrohir scuttled from his former position and turned to examine Elladan's line.

"Now it's my turn!" Elladan shoved the quill into Elrohir's hand and eagerly stood against the wall. Pudgy began to lap up the droplets of ink that had fallen to the floor. Elrohir quickly marked his brother's height. The two lines seemed to merge. Elladan moved from the wall and stood beside his brother in contemplation of the two streaks.

 **XxX**

Elrond was walking by the twin's shared bedroom when, though the half-open doorway, he caught sight of the young pair admiring an unseen thing. In Elrohir's hand was a dripping quill. Pudgy was busy lapping something from the floor. He sighed and went inside. What he saw immediately warmed his heart. On the wall, were two thick, black lines. He immediately recognised the small marks as his young sons' tallied heights.

"I'm taller!" Elrohir boasted.

"Na-uh!" Elladan shoved his brother hard.

Elrond cleared his throat. Both twins startled and, halting their shoving, they both turned towards Elrond. Of course, their faces lit up when they saw him.

"LOOK!" Elrohir said proudly.

"ADA!" Elladan squealed. At the same instant, he took Elrond's hand and eagerly showed his father what they had done. Elrohir followed his brother's lead and seized Elrond's other hand. Chuckling, Elrond let them bring him before The Wall. Their little hands eagerly pointed out which one was whose. Their high-pitched voices tumbled over one another excitedly.

"We're almost as tall as you!" They both exclaimed.

The look of sheer pride in their grey eyes was perfectly reflected in Elrond's own. He laughed as he enveloped them in a rough bear-hug. "Indeed, you are!"

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 **Please review.**


	29. Filling in the Gaps

**This is an experiment writing dwarves. I hope you like it. :)**

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The sun was beginning to peek her head over the Misty Mountains, igniting the sky in glorious shades of pink and orange. Mist rolling off the rocky face of the mountain-sides reflected her rays brilliantly. "Wake up!" Thorin shouted. He had been up for some time and was eager to get moving.

All the dwarves startled from their sleep except Óin, of course. He must have been sleeping on his "good ear," thought his younger brother Glóin as he stretched and stood. The red-haired dwarf leaned over Óin's sleeping form and shook him firmly. Glóin's long, wild beard dangled tantalizingly close to the elder's large nose; it twitched in a most humorous way.

"Wake up! Thorin wants to get moving!" Glóin yelled perhaps a little louder than necessary.

Óin opened his eyes. The glistening morning sun made him cringe slightly. He looked up at his younger brother and scowled. "Let me sleep!"

His younger brother's reply was much quieter. "We need to chop wood!"

Óin looked at him in anger. "There ain't no way I'm chopping wood at this time!" The grey dwarf stubbornly snuggled deeper into his blankets. _It was far too early to be chopping wood,_ he thought.

Glóin cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Óin growled, "Now listen here! It is too early to be chopping wood or cleaning! I am sleeping!" He settled his head onto his pillow and shut his eyes. "Thorin can kiss my-Glóin, finally understanding (or done with his game), interrupted the ruffled dwarf. "Fine! Sleep! We'll leave without you!" This he yelled. A devious grin was spreading across his face.

Óin opened one eye; then it suddenly dawned on him. "No!" He quickly got up from his comfy position. "There ain't no way anyone is leaving without me!" he yapped.


	30. What Happens Now?

"Come, Elvorn! Naneth said I had to bring you, but she didn't say I had to keep you!" Elros looked back at his younger brother. Elvorn had dropped his fishing pole on the green sward and was crouching near the lap of a towering, ancient tree. He seemed to be examining a large rock jutting from the dark earth. "Elvorn…." Exasperation laced his voice.

The young ellon looked up, excitement evident in his eyes. "Elros, look!" He struggled to lift the stone from its position.

Elros rolled his eyes. _The things his brother found interesting_ … "Come along. It's just a rock." He continued his walk towards the river. He heard his little brother's hasty footfalls quickly reach his side. Elros glanced down on the filthy, scrawny elfling. He couldn't help but smile as Elvorn strove to keep his fishing line from getting tangled while trying to keep up with Elros' longer stride.

"There it is!" Elvorn exclaimed as the river came into view. He eagerly ran to the bank, forgetting completely his former tussle regarding the line. Elros continued his more tranquil pace. He had no reason to rush. This particular summer morn was especially beautiful. Dappled sunlight painted the forest floor with an irregular pattern. The leaves above whispered softly in the gentle breeze.

"Elros! Come on! I want to fish! You said you would teach me!" Elvorn's voice echoed throughout the previous serene forest. It wasn't all that bad. Elros was looking forward to teaching his younger brother how to fish.

It did not take long for him to reach the small riverbank, nor did it take long for Elros to briefly go over the basics of preparing the line and, well, fishing in general. Elvorn stood awed at his brother's knowledge. He soaked everything in like a sponge. Finally, Elros finished and let Elvorn take the first cast. Elros turned to his own pole and began to ready it.

Elvorn stood expectantly on the shore holding his pole very still and somewhat stiffly. "Elros, what happens now?"

Elros didn't reply. He cast his newly baited line into the gurgling brook and leaned contentedly into the lap of a close tree. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and huffed blithely. Only then did he reply to enthusiastic younger brother. "Now, we wait."


	31. Dreams and Fantasies

Elrond smiled and casually sipped a crisp mouthful of white wine from his glass. The sun was just beginning to rise. As it peeked over the sharp cliff, its golden light reflected brilliantly off the grey, rocky sides of the ravine he called home. The sky was a beautiful pink hue. A gentle breeze gingerly toyed with his raven hair. His gaze drifted languidly to an image carved into one of the pillars holding up the large gazebo, which he sat beneath. It was an image of a slender, beautiful elf maiden. She stood, sensuously bearing a bowl up above her cascading locks, a bowl which Elrond imagined to be filled with wine of a similar taste as that which he drank now. He smiled once more and took another sip. His silver eyes travelled slowly up her svelte frame. The elleth would have been quite a sight in life. He briefly imagined her deliberately leaning down and offering him a drink of buttery, rich liquid. He nestled deeper into the cushions of his chair and closed his eyes. His mind tentatively continued the fantasy…

Soft lips touched his own, sending a thrill down his spine. He brushed his own lips lightly against the newcomer's. Her breath was sweet; the taste of apples. Elrond continued the kiss and gently brought his free hand to her cheek. Her skin was flawless. Even with his eyes closed, he knew that. It was smooth and _perfect_. She suddenly broke away from the kiss. He opened his eyes. A slender figure, gloriously framed in dazzling sunlight stood before him. It was Celebrían. He felt his face redden in embarrassment and some shame. Maybe she knew not his previous daydreaming…. She levelled him with a steady glare. He immediately knew that she knew. Deciding he may be able to salvage the situation, he flashed a mischievous smile, downed the remainder of his drink, and then knelt before her in deference. She arched an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose a 'sorry' would cut it?" He questioned, meeting her gaze. His voice was low, but held an appeasing tone.

His wife smiled then stooped. She ran her hand gently along his jaw line. "Elrond, we all have our fantasies." She stepped away, now giving _him_ a mischievous smile. "I'll leave you alone with her." With that, she left leaving a somewhat disappointed elven lord alone with his shallow dreams.

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 **Please leave a review.**


	32. Water

**This was just a little something I came up with...**

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Galion leaned his back against the face of a large, cool stone and let his feet splash in the rushing water below. Elros sat precariously perched on a similar jutting stone beside the Butler. Elros was smiling in the most ridiculous manner. The cuffs of his trousers were rolled up to the knee and he was slowly kicking his feet in the river. Small, silver beads of water jumped up whenever the elf's feet came up. Galion closed his eyes and folded his hands on his chest. The cool shade and icy water was welcome on this sunny, summer afternoon. Galion felt a spray of liquid suddenly dash across his face. He opened his eyes and glared at Elros, who was grinning even more ridiculously now.

"That was rude," Galion said as he wiped the rivulets from his face.

"Come on, Galion. It was just a little water!" Elros exclaimed, happily splashing a bit more at the Butler.

Galion reflexively put his hands up in defence of the tiny drops. "I know it is just a bit of water, but…" Elros was just staring at him. The grin hadn't faded in the slightest. In fact, it had grown wider (if that was possible). "You act like you have never…" He couldn't finish. The enthusiasm shown by his friend was contagious and he found himself smiling also. "Oh, never mind!" He kicked a large helping of river water at Elros, which was not easily dodged and left the elf soaked.

Elros over-dramatically flailed. "Oh, the horror! Water! What shall I do?!" he laughed.

Galion punched the madly giggling Guard in the arm, hard. "Shut up, you nasty whelp or I'll hit you somewhere else."

Elros recoiled in mock terror, but continued to laugh. "Galion, you?! Why, I didn't know you… you were so violent!" He held his sides as he desperately tried to keep calm. His friend's face was turning a vivid shade of red. Galion huffed. _Just ignore him and he'll get over himself,_ Galion thought. He faced away and tried to do just that, but he couldn't help but smile as Elros' boyish laughter echoed over the sound of the river.

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 **Please leave me a review, they totally make my day. :)**


	33. A Book

Erestor was sitting behind his desk busily scratching words onto a piece of paper. He was drafting a letter to Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. He moved the tip of his quill to his mouth as he pondered what word he should put into a certain sentence. _Ah._ He scribbled another letter onto the page. While he was in the middle of jotting the "I," however a small hand tugged on the corner of his robe and startled him. His pen splattered out a large droplet of ink which immediately began to spread. He looked down in frustration at the young grey-eyed elleth. "Can I help you?" He asked trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

Arwen's big eyes sparkled. "Yes!" She exclaimed.

Erestor had to fight a smile. The young girl's enthusiasm was quite contagious. "What can I do for you?"

She jumped up excitedly. "I need a BIG book!"

Erestor felt his eyebrows rise. What on earth would Arwen want with a large book? _Oh well,_ he thought. It wasn't like she was like her brothers… He stood and stepped over to a tall bookshelf standing against the wall. "Do you want the biggest one?" He asked bringing his fingers to the thickest book on one of the low shelves. "How about this one? Is this sufficient?"

She bounced up in delight. "Yes, yes that is it!" She hugged Erestor tightly on the leg. "Can you carry it for me, please?" She begged.

Erestor groaned inwardly but braced himself to pick up the large book. He remembered to lift with his legs. "Where do you want me to take it for you?" he asked.

"To my room, please! I am pressing flowers!"

Erestor had to smile this time. He had known she was doing something innocent…


	34. Cold

**I know a little long, but I was on a roll. :)**

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"I'm cold!" Legolas whined for the umpteenth time in less than half an hour. Thranduil bit his lip and reminded himself to be patient. The two of them were walking deep in the forest. It was winter in the Greenwood. A fresh snow had fallen last night and blanketed the entire land. A frosty breeze nipped at the exposed portions of their faces and hands. The king had decided to take his son hunting, but he was quickly regretting that decision. They had not seen hint of any game and the boy was getting restless. Legolas groaned again.

"Ada, I'm cold!"

Thranduil felt his jaw clench as he turned to his son. He tried to keep his voice level. "Iôn nîn, you must be silent or we will not find any game."

Legolas looked up at his ada. The boy was a rather pitiful sight. His cheeks were a striking shade of pink and his nose dripped from the cold. His azure eyes were full of pleading. Perhaps it was time to go home. He didn't want to give his son a bad impression of hunting after all. He sighed. "Alright, let's go home."

XxX

Thranduil let out a contented huff as he let himself collapse into a deep, cushioned chair. His wife, sitting in a nearby chair reading, gave a small smile as he did so. "How did it go?" She asked trying to make conversation.

Thranduil motioned for a servant. "Please have Galion bring me something hot." He turned to his beloved. "It went okay. Our son wouldn't stop complaining about the cold, though, and we caught sight of no game," he said exasperated.

"Oh, is that so?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

Thranduil felt his own brows furrow in confusion. "Why do you say it like that?"

She smiled "Who was the one in bed last night complaining about how cold it was again?"

Thranduil felt his jaw drop slightly. He could not believe that she would pull that on him. It had been one of the coldest nights of the year. Last night. He had had reason to be cold… His thoughts drifted to how cold Legolas had appeared in the forest. He snorted. "Well, I brought him home," he countered. Galion stepped into the room with a platter upon which a mug of hot apple cider rested. Thranduil took it and gently sipped the heated beverage.

His wife smiled again. "Yes, you did…"

Thranduil felt a "but" approaching…

" _but_ perhaps you should try not to sound so exasperated. You know, I think the old saying goes- 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'"

Thranduil felt his shoulders sag. She was right, of course. "Perhaps I shouldn't," he concluded and took another sip of his drink.


	35. Fire

"Ada, how did you get your scar?" Young Legolas looked up at his father, who was lounging on his throne. The boy had been sitting at his father's feet playing

Thranduil had not expected such a question and had to ask for clarification. "I am sorry?"

"How did you get your scar?"

The inquiry brought back painful memories of a dragon and fire and a mistake.

One moment had caused another moment. He remembered all of it in slow motion, though he was certain it had only been seconds if not fractions of a second.

The sheer agony of having half of his face melted away. The pain that had accompanied its sticking to his helmet. Red flames, white hot metal, a roar. A deafening roar that had shook his entire being. After that the pain had become null. Then darkness and no sound. He remembered hitting the ground hard, but not knowing where. The pain…

It was not the agony itself now. No, it was the feeling of sheer powerlessness that still haunted him. That feeling of being drowned in fire and anguish. The darkness… the sheer void rushing over him like a giant tidal wave.

The one sense that he could recall from the entire experience that wasn't pain was the smell. He remembered the smell. Lost and drowning in a sea of otherwise sensory nothingness, that was what had overwhelmed him. That had been what had caused him to fall into unconsciousness and had forced himself to give into oblivion…

"Ada?"

Thranduil looked down upon his son, who was still waiting for an answer. The young elfling had a worried glint in his eyes.

"A dragon," he answered simply.


	36. Sunset

He sat down upon the cool, white stone steps that lead to Meneltarma. The sun glinted brilliantly off the alabaster stairway. A sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes enjoying the last rays of sunshine. He could feel his body growing frail with each passing day. Life, it seemed, was slipping from his hands like the fading sunset before him. His thoughts drifted to his twin brother Elrond, who had chosen immortality. Did Elros regret his choice? No, but the pain of saying farewell… It was almost too much to bear. He let the tears fall feeling no shame under the shadow of death. Yes, it was nearing time.

He stood slowly. He had to say goodbye. The sound of his lonely footsteps marching down the stairs echoed resolutely through the still air. The sun was nearly gone now. It passed under the world into the Far West.

With every step further, and old memory quickly resurfaced then disappeared. His life flashed before him. He was proud of it. The days he had experienced had been good. Yes, indeed, he was ready.


	37. Sunrise

**Slightly AU because I know elves don't really sleep, but its fanfiction. This is Elros the Guard btw. :)**

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He woke up early for a change. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he did. The sun was just beginning to peek her head through the branches of the Greenwood. The house was silent. He laid there for a moment enjoying the warmth of his bed then sat up and flipped the sheets off his body. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His toes curled when they hit the cold wooden floor. He glanced across the room at his younger brother who was sleeping peacefully on his own bed. Millions of dust motes could be seen filling the gap between their beds. The tiny specks were made visible by golden light beaming through the sole window. Elros stood slowly and made his way to the small washroom the brothers shared. He was careful not to wake Elvorn as he gently shut the door.

Mornings were beautiful. When he actually stopped to watch, he realised that. His ears itched to hear what was going on outside. He wanted to go out and listen to the world waking from sleep. He wished to let the music of the hour fall over him like a wave. He wanted to smell the freshness of a new day. The heady scent of wet earth, newly watered by the mists. The gentle caress of that ancient light's warm rays... He wanted to watch the sunrise today.


	38. Murderer

**This is any random Noldo. The end, you can choose for yourself.**

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The blood on his hands... It was cold and thick and not his own. He let go of his sword in disgust. It dripped with the blood of his kin... His kin... Their cries and shouts still echoed in his mind.

He had never thought he could cause so much pain. He had thought he was a good person. What had happened to that man? Where was he now? Was he still good at heart? This couldn't possibly be what he wanted. Was it?

He caught sight of the sons of Fëanor setting out of the harbour. He remained where he was, kneeling on the bloodstained shores of Aqualondë and locked in inner turmoil. A hand touched his shoulder lightly after several minutes... or maybe it was several hours. He looked up into the blue eyes of a lone elf.

"Are you injured?" The stranger asked.

He looked down over himself, inspecting for wounds. His mind felt heavy and slow. He felt far away from himself. He noticed a minor gash on his side. Looking back at the elf, he nodded, but stopped suddenly when he noticed who it was... A mariner.

His heart dropped. The guilt was too much. Grief overwhelmed him. How?! Why?! Tears immediately began to flow down his pale, blood-splattered cheeks.

The Teleri elf gently touched him on the shoulder. The elf said a quiet word, but he didn't hear.

The touch sent a icy shiver down his spine and his body shook with the sobs. He didn't want to hurt anymore... How could he go on knowing that he caused so much pain and agony... And death! He swiftly tore his sword from its place in the sand. He needed it to stop. How could the world want to keep him? Who was he?! A murderer.


	39. Wind

As he strolled down the meandering woodland path, the wind whistled through the trees and brush. He held his hands behind his back and a look of relative contentment was on his face.

The woods were cool in the evening. The sun sat low in the western sky, beaming with the last light of day and painting the high clouds of heaven a vivid pink. The leaves in the treetops above him reflected the rose tinged light on their shiny, green faces. They chattered together, murmering in communion with the wind.

The strong breeze toyed with his dark locks, which laid loose over his shoulders and back.

The dust that his boots kicked up as he walked was quickly snatched up by the wind's strong fingers. It would fly then settle somewhere foreign. Nearby or far off in the distance, none could tell where it would stay.

He sighed, his contentment now forgotten. He felt like the dust, borne up by a strong wind and uprooted. His mind pondered, in that quiet, lonesome moment, where he would settle now. Nothing lay behind him, but rage and ruin and despair. What laid ahead was a mystery. Elros exhaled once more. This would take more to unravel then a stroll in the forest at dusk. He turned his feet back the way he came. For now, it seemed, the palace was his new home.


	40. Point of View

**This is just something I scribbled together. I don't know exactly what, but I feel something could have been done differently. If anyone has any comments they would be appreciated. :) Bruion is one of my OC's**

The rain kept falling. It had been falling for hours now. He sat by the fogged window. Silver droplets wriggled their way down the cold, smooth glass. The small beads were nearly identical to the ones now tracing pathways down the Nandorin elf's face.

Outside, the world was getting its own, being drenched with cold rain and shaken with violent gales. Elros was tired of crying. In, the next room, he could hear his younger brother softly whimpering. He sighed, wiping his nose with the edge of his sleeve, then stood. He quietly made his way to the main room of the house.

There, by the lit hearth, his younger brother sat curled with his little knees pressed to his chest. Elros silently moved to the elfling's side and sat down upon the wooden floor. The sound of the rain pelting the house was loud and harsh. It wasn't fair. They had not deserved to lose a father. It wasn't fair... Elros felt his grief coming back. He bit his lip, forcing himself not to cry. He wouldn't cry anymore. He wouldn't do it.

 **XxX**

Bruion smiled to himself. Today had been a good one. Indeed, the highlight of the week. He had got so much done, and had even a little time afterwards to spend enjoying himself fishing. The house was in good working order, running smoothly.

Evening was falling fast, and away to the north a storm was raging. He smiled to himself. The wet smell of the summer rain refreshed him further. The breeze caressed his stubbly cheeks with gentle, cool fingers. He sighed in relaxed pleasure to be graced by such a rich day.

The sun's red rays shone suddenly forth through a break in the surrounding forest. Bruion grinned once more as his eyes fell upon a newly minted masterpiece. There, away towards the heavy, dark clouds and standing proud before the storm was a brilliant rainbow. He chuckled for the first time in days. Yes, this was a good day.


	41. On My Own

**Thranduil becomes a man. Set during the Battle of Dagorlad...**

"My lord, we face many enemies. Our men cannot stand against such numbers for much longer."

Thranduil's foggy mind went through the possibilities before him. Oh, how he wished his father were here, but he wasn't. He was dead.

All around him, the din of war being waged assaulted every one of his senses. The noise, the smell, the chaotic sights. The Sindar elf stood beside his second in command in a relatively empty spot on the battlefield.

Thranduil could barely think. The still fresh emotions from watching his father's death not an hour ago, threatened to drown him. They clouded his thoughts.

Thranduil knew he had to get a hold of himself or people would die. They were already dying. He was overwhelmed and frightened, though he would never admit it. This burden was too much...

"My lord!" The captain interrupted.

Thranduil snapped back to reality and turned his gaze to the warrior. His body heaved as he panted for breath. Blood stained once shining armour. Auburn hair was filthy with dirt and splattered with gore. His bright emerald eyes were now heavy with exhaustion and dull from the death surrounding him. However, his back was straight. He carried his shoulders square. His face held concern and a mild degree of frustration, but also something that Thranduil had not tasted before. Conviction.

For an instant, they locked eyes. That look. That conviction. Suuddenly, the fog lifted. Thranduil knew what he had to do, and even though it would be hell, he would shoulder it. The torch was his now. It was time to act. It was his choice. He nodded in acknowledgement. "Sound the retreat."

The captain gave a brisk salute then turned to carry out his own orders.

They would live to fight another day and he would lead them. To the bitter end, if bitter it must be. He was their king now.


	42. Hobby

He went outside for the first time in weeks. The breeze was a welcome hand caressing his face softly. The clear morning sky was a great change from the large caverns of the palace. Elros stepped lightly over the narrow, stone bridge then into the forest beyond. The elf walked for a long time, alone, while the brilliant sunrise busily chased away the nightime mist.

He walked quietly, not wishing to disturb the quaint sounds of the woods. In fact, the only noise emanating from him was the forlorn sound of his keys jingling in step with him.

Finally, he came to a large elm deep in the forest. He deftly climbed high into its branches, perching upon a thick, grey bough. Elros reached beneath his cloak. His fingers found a worn leather-bound journal. He pulled the book out along with a small amount of charcoal wrapped in cloth from his vest pocket.

He slowly began to sketch out the surrounding forest on the parchment. It was times like these when he felt truly at ease. When the morning was cool and fresh and he was alone to draw. He let his worries vanish like the mist as the skeleton of a small wood was traced unto the page. He smiled, being soothed by the repetitive strokes. The simple act of sketching allowed him to relax. He needed this.

Quietly, alone, and content, the guard sat there perched in an elm tree for longer than need be said enjoying himself. Enjoying his hobby.


	43. Count Up

Elros sat on the beach of a small lake. The rough, warm sand felt good pressed against the soles of his bare feet. His son, Aearon, played not far away, picking up rocks and throwing them into the water. The boy was attempting to skip one.

Elros watched him with a small smile on his face. His wife sat beside him on the shore. He felt her presence and could smell her floral scent. He spared her a glance. She had her eyes closed; she was enjoying the soft breeze. Elros grinned then stood. He made his way to Aearon's side. "Iôn nîn, do you want me to show you how to skip those?"

The young boy looked up at his father. "No, ada. I can do it," he said determinedly.

Elros chuckled. "Okay. Can I skip with you then?"

The dark haired elfling grinned and nodded. "Yeah."

Elros felt a smile spread across his face as he leant down to pick up a handful of suitable stones. "Here." He gave the boy one of his selection.

Aearon took it and stepped back. He was watching his father intently. Elros fought to keep a straight face as he nonchalantly gripped the rock. He drew back his arm then let loose the stone unto the water. The small rock skipped... one, two, three, four times.

"Lemme try!" Aearon exclaimed. The young boy hastily readied himself just as he had watched his father moments earlier. He threw the stone. It hopped... One, two times before sinking.

Aearon gasped in delight. "Ada! I did it!" He exclaimed as he turned to face a beaming Elros.

Elros could not contain his mirth. He laughed and clapped his hands together. "Yes, you did iôn!" He tossed Aearon another stone. "Let's try again!"

Aearon caught it, grinning. "Okay!"


	44. Deadline

The Elvenking paced the floor again and sighed when he glanced out the window for the umpteenth time. It was nearing the point for which his son, Legolas, was to be getting home. The sun was now falling fast into a quick twilight and dipping below the tree-studded horizon. Legolas had been ordered to be back from his fishing trip by sundown. Time was quickly running out.

Thranduil pulled his eyes from the window. Two ceremonial guards stood stock still on either side of the doors leading into the king's private study. They radiated a calm energy that Thranduil envied. He tried to distract himself from his anxiety with the flames which roared in the lit hearth, but that only made things worse. He was mostly worried for his son's safety. The forest had been growing more perilous with each passing day, and to be out after sunset was dangerous...

Legolas burst through the doors excitedly. "Here I am, adar!"

Thranduil jumped around to face the new arrival, but the moment he heard his son's familiar voice, his shoulders sagged in relief. The boy immediately assaulted his father with a ferocious embrace, which was very much welcomed by Thranduil. "Legolas," he stated. His voice was laced with warmth that washed away the king's previous worry.

"I told you I would not break curfew!" The young ellon exclaimed gaily as he gently broke the embrace and grinned.

Thranduil fixed the blonde youth with a level stare and quirked an eyebrow. On the inside, however, he was beaming. "But you almost did," he said with a teasing mirth in his eyes.

Legolas just rolled his eyes to the ceiling.


	45. Painting

Legolas stormed down the stairway. Deeper and deeper, it took him down to the vast depository below the palace. The place where he could brood in empty silence… or just cry. Presently, the elf was furious. Earlier, he and his father had been drawn into a long heated argument concerning the best possible course of action against the growing shadow of Dol Guldur. Even the thought of it further enraged him. He didn't understand why his father was so stubborn.

His feet hit the bottom level with a soft thud of leather on rough stone. The noise echoed throughout the large, dimly lit cavern. Legolas took a deep breath of the stale air and took a small lantern off its sconce beside the entrance. He stepped into the main vault.

It was a huge room filled with a plethora of such items that had no immediate need, but may be called into use someday.

Legolas let his feet meander for nearly half an hour until the anger had faded and he was ready to go. He was turning around to leave when a metallic glimmer glinted briefly in the passing amber light. Legolas arched a brow and halted his steps. Curiosity, prodded him onwards as he bent forward to remove the various bits of painting supplies and other paraphernalia that were piled against what was now looking to be a framed painting. For a moment, his fingers faltered when they brushed the cloth draped over the canvas. He hesitated and a wave of fear washed over him… He pulled the veil off swiftly. Dust plumed, but quickly settled and he was able to see who the portrait depicted.

She was a petite, chocolate haired elleth with bright blue eyes and a sweet smile. She sat on an ornate, ebony wood chair. Fragile, pink flowers were spread across the floor surrounding her small, bare feet.

Legolas felt his heart drop into the bottom of his stomach. A sick almost familiar feeling overcame him. He knew this elleth… Silent tears began to trace pathways down his cheeks. This had to be his mother. He gently lifted the painting and read the signature in the bottom right corner:

" _To my best friend and lover. You and me together- I wouldn't trade it for anything."_

Legolas tried to swallow over the lump in his throat. He lowered himself slowly onto the stone floor and let the tears fall as he admired an elleth he never knew in the dim, quiet vault.


	46. Tradition

**The tradition here is the braids :)**

* * *

"Come on Fíli! I braided yours!" Kíli whined. The two young dwarves were in the room they shared. They were to be getting ready to attend the annual Spring festival.

Fíli grinned in response to his brother's plea and waved the golden hairbrush in a mocking fashion. "You have to catch me first!" The dwarfling exclaimed as he jumped onto one of the beds, continuing to wave the comb tantalisingly.

Kíli growled. "Fine!" He sprung after his older brother, tackling him to the floor. They landed in a squirming heap.

Just then, their mother Dís burst into the room. "What are you two fooling around for?!" She pulled the two wrestling dwarflings apart and snatched the gold brush from Fíli. She placed the gold brush firmly into Kíli's hand. "Kíli! Braid your hair! We are leaving in a few minutes and I won't have you attending with loose, messy hair!"

With that, she stomped out of the room, leaving the two brothers to finish up.

Fíli snickered. "You got in _trouble,_ " he teased.

Kíli shot the ginger-haired dwarfling pure daggers. "Shut up and braid my hair."


	47. Snow

**My dogs love to do this :)**

The Lord of Imladris stood close by as he watched his twin sons rolling an ever-growing ball of packed snow. The two elflings were working determinedly on a snowman. Imladris was in the dead of Rhîw and the family had awoken to much snow upon the ground this morning. It was cold, but the thick grey clouds acted as blankets over the Hidden Valley, and it was, thankfully, not too icy.

Elrond watched with a small hint of pride as his sons worked together on the snowman. They were now struggling to lift the middle ball into place. He was just about to call out to ask if they needed help, when all of a sudden, Pudgy bolted out of the house. Elrond startled as the little brown dog raced past him, forging his way through the deep snow extraordinarily fast.

The dog immediately found a spot of trodden snow near the twins and dropped to the floor. Pudgy rolled onto his back and started to wriggle happily, just like that.

Elladan and Elrohir squealed in delight and pointed. Elrond caught their sparkling eyes filled with delight and he laughed deeply. "It seems Pudgy loves the snow as well!"


	48. First In Mind

He woke the way he always did: to a dark, sparsely furnished, empty room. It was always the same, and just like always, he thought of her first. Imagining her slender frame lying beside him in the bed. He slipped from between the warm sheets and sighed as his bare feet hit the stone, cold floor. He should have been more healed than this. Right? Quietly, the elf guard dressed and prepared for his duties, wondering if she would ever really know how much he missed her every morning.


	49. Failed Attempt

**This is what I'm calling a negative to an actual failed attempt. Love it or hate it I don't really care. I liked it a lot and I'm not ashamed of a little weaselly stuff.**

* * *

Galion cheered his friend on, "You can do it, El. Show this messenger boy Nandorin stuff."

Feren stood by watching, arms crossed over his chest, with a smirk playing across his face.

Elros drew in another lungful of air. Oh, what he wouldn't give to wipe that smug little grin off his pretty face… The thought gave him a spark of resolve to try again. He brought the small horn up to his lips and blew it in another attempt to coax some noise from the silent instrument. Nothing.

He lowered the horn and once more took a few heavy breaths. He was starting to feel somewhat lightheaded.

Feren grinned. "Have you had enough?"

Elros almost growled, but held his temper in check. He slowly brought the device back to his lips.

"Remember to press your lips together," Galion offered.

Elros nodded, doing just that. He thought of his many failed attempts before this and Feren's bold smile. He took a deep breath and blew. For a second nothing came out, but he changed position and finally a piercing, clear cry jumped forth from the horn.

Elros let the call go on for a few moments before he broke it off, sucking in more much needed air.

Galion immediately jumped to his best friend's side, and gave Elros a gentle pat on the back. The guard was slightly bowed and panting lightly.

Feren raised his eyebrows in admiration. His smirk was gone. "Well done," he admitted. "Though it took you long enough," he hastily added.

Galion was beaming and didn't notice the sour elf's comments. "How did it feel?" He asked.

Elros straightened, meeting his friend's gaze. "I think I want to sit down," he said simply.


	50. Count Down

Elros lounged idly on a low, thick branch of a large spruce tree. He sat with his back pressed against the rough bark and with his hands propped causally behind his head. As they often did in quiet moments like these, his thoughts drifted to the one whom he loved.

The days were growing shorter and shorter it seemed. Each one passed away more quickly than the last, but they still seemed to be moving far too slow. Every morning, he checked the calendar counting down the days till his wedding. He longed for it so badly... The young ellon sighed in exasperation. He supposed there wasn't much help in worrying about it. He was already nervous enough, and the ceremony was only a week away. Time would pass at its own pace whether he liked it or not.

The dark haired elf stretched, popping his knuckles nonchalantly. I just have to be patient, he thought decidedly.


	51. Clouds

The tower guard stood on the high watch alone. The wind whipped past him, strongly toying with his dark shoulder-length hair. The gale was cold; it cut easily even through his thick attire. The man's silver, grey eyes silently watched the landscape before him, looking out over the White City of Minas Tirith, roaming far past the golden fields of Pelennor, jumping across the meandering line of the Anduin, and finally resting on the looming visage of Ephel Dúath, the Mountains of Shadow. The range rose about the Dark Land in defiance against the City of the Men of the West. 

However, the tower guard's gaze did not linger long on those foul peaks, silent and rude. It strove higher; at last settling upon the billowing swathes of thick, dark clouds that brooded ominously on the threshold of Morder. They poured forth, growing ever closer to the realm of Gondor like a heavy tide, writhing and foaming in unrest. The grey pall flashed darkly in shuddering rage, yearning to unloose it's fury upon the free lands. 

Still, the guard stood. Despite the burgeoning storm ahead of him, he would endure the angry sight till the end. 


	52. Transportation

"Here, take this one," the grizzled elf said as he motioned for a servant to bring over a horse. The animal trotted happily to Bruion and Elros' side, eagerly bumping his nose into Bruion's outstretched hand. The servant handed the old elf the reins then hurried off. "This is my best horse. I don't have a name for him."

Elros looked on with wonder. The steed was magnificent, indeed, with glossy jet black hair interrupted by occasional white patches, a long black mane, and clear dark brown eyes. He was smaller than the work horses Elros was used to, but still very strong. His muscles moved with exquisite grace under his skin as he shifted his legs here and there.

Elros stood for a long moment admiring the animal before it dawned on him that Bruion was giving him this horse. "I don't think I can take…" he began, but he was cut short by Bruion's gruff voice.

"I am giving him to you. You'll need some form of transport besides your own two feet," he said.

Elros thought about the offer for a second than nodded. It was no use arguing with the grey healer. He relented. "I suppose you are correct."

Bruion snorted. "I know I'm right."

Elros smiled slightly and nodded, patting the horse's sturdy neck firmly. It seemed he owned a horse now. This day was full of surprises.


	53. Destruction

**On the battlefield of N** **irnaeth Arnoediad...**

* * *

His dirty, brown leather boots faltered at the edge of the battlefield. The dry, rough sand looked grey. Ashes mingled with the coarse granules. Swirling winds tossed his light brown hair this way and that as he stood gazing over the land. In the North, the three peaks of Thangorodrim loomed. The elven healer stood alone for the time being amid the silent, dusty plains. _"So much destruction and death,"_ he thought grimly. _"And all for what?"_

Bruion closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sight fade away, imaging a green well-watered country filled with good trees and fine people, and a soft forest breeze laden with the smells of the fresh morning wafting over him. He opened his eyes and looked upon the desolate battleground.

The death; bodies of so many fallen comrades littering the dirty floor like refuse and staining the pale dust with dark blood. The smoke stretching towards the clouded sky like black, trailing fingers…

"My lord Bruion, we must move on."

Bruion turned away from the sight before him to face the young soldier. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said quietly, giving the carnage one last look. He knew it would not be the last battle, and that was the most painful part.


	54. Spies

**I know... very loose take on Spies, but oh well**

* * *

Elvorn let his eyes roam across the square towards the blacksmith's workshop. He let his dark gaze rest on _her_. She was the daughter of the blacksmith's assistant and she was marvellous to behold. Presently, she was sitting beside her father and watching him sharpen the iron heads of arrows. Her beautiful chestnut hair shimmered so perfectly in the bright sunlight… For some reason, he felt his face redden slightly at that thought.

The elf sat on the steps leading from the porch in front of he and his brother's own workshop. The smell of freshly cut wood and sawdust wafted from the building. It was a cool autumn afternoon. Lunch time was almost over. He sat quietly letting the minutes slip by. He wanted to watch her, but he wouldn't. Elvorn turned his eyes from the lovely elleth and looked down at his rough hands. Golden saw dust still clung to the fine hairs on his fingers.

Boots sounded behind him and he felt his older brother standing behind him. Elvorn glanced over his shoulder at Elros and half smiled. His elder brother stood drying his hands off with a soft, grey cloth. His eyes wandered across the square. Elvorn new exactly who Elros was looking at. "You should stop staring and go talk to her," he said, not breaking his gaze.

Elvorn sighed and briefly snatched a glimpse of her before turning his attention back to his hands.

"You should," Elros stated again. He then threw the towel over the top of his little brother's head.

Elvorn grimaced and, yanking the cloth off his head, twisted to face Elros, but the elf was already back inside. Elvorn sighed. He gave her one last look then stood. He should have been getting back to work anyways.


	55. Vanity

"You impudent whelp," Galion accused as he frowned down at the oak game board. Elros sat directly across from him grinning and watching the butler's reaction to the previous winning move.

The two elves were sat at a small round table deep in the wine cellars. It was their favourite place to spend quiet evenings or short breaks. Mostly because it was relatively private and far away from the king. At the moment, the two friends were playing a game that Elros was relatively new to playing: chess. Indeed, the guard had not played the game in years and, even then, he played it sparsely. However, he seemed to have a talent for it…

 _Or he is just lucky,_ thought the butler as he finally turned his eyes from the board to meet the younger elf's dark gaze. Elros' smile would have broadened if that were possible. "You shouldn't call names, Gal," Elros said with mocking innocence. "It isn't _my_ fault that I am so good at this game."

Galion really did want to smack that beaming face. "Don't be so certain. Your vanity may be misplaced. Set us up for another round."

This time Elros' smile did broaden. _I guess it is possible,_ Galion thought wryly as he prepared to wipe the floor with the youngster. This time, he would have to pull out all the stops and pray to the Valar a silent plea to humble the guard. Galion almost had to chuckle at that thought. It would be amusing to see indeed… He said that prayer and began the next round with renewed determination.


	56. Let's Play A Game

A young, dark haired elfling ran merrily into the woods behind his house, remembering to stay within call of his father, who was sitting on the back porch carving into a stump of ebony wood. Presently, it was nearing sundown in the northern swathes of Greenwood that the family called home. A warm, amber light filled both sky and forest with a magnificent honey glow. The shadows of the trees lengthened in the late hour, stretching out over the undergrowth, which had been ignited into a lush, golden carpet by the fading sun.

However, the young lad was somewhere else. He was running into a dark wood under pale, naked stars, in a faraway land, deep in the ancient past. He skipped quietly for a minute enjoying the wondrous sights of the forest then he heard a raucous cry break the still air. He knew what that noise was, surely: Yrch! Quickly, he snatched out his gleaming weapon and charged deeper into the forest to meet the foul creatures.

On his left and right, they surrounded him, but he fought the hideous orcs and one by one cut them down. A large howl echoed through the twilight… There. Coming straight at him was a huge, black wolf. Its eyes glowed in red anger as it ran towards the elf. Swiftly, the warrior dodged out of the wolf's path and swung out his sword. The beast roared and fell to the ground in a heap. The ellon whooped loudly in triumph over his foe. But as he readied himself to face off another enemy, his father's voice called, "Elros! It is time for supper!"

Immediately the dream faded and night melted back to quaint, summer evening. The stars blinked out save one on the far western horizon and the orcs vanished like the mist. The battle was over and won.

"Coming!" He called, dropping his stick and running back towards home for supper.

 **Yrch: orcs**


	57. I Am Flying

Ori clung disparately onto his brother's boot and kept his eyes screwed shut. He was dangling from his brother, Dori, who was clinging to a wizard's staff, the owner of which was sitting in a tree that was itself hanging precariously off a cliff. He could hear the warg's howling and the sharp cracks of roots straining, but the feeling of free air all about him, including under his feet, was by far the worst sensation. 

The thought made him hang on tighter but didn't go away. Ori tried not to think about the many empty meters below him or the stony floor waiting for he and his brother to fall and splatter like dropped eggs. He whimpered and determinedly turned his imaginings to feeling the solid, grey stone under his feet instead of the dark, empty void that was threatening to swallow him up… He felt Dori start to slip and had to hug his brother's leg even more adamantly, though he also knew it didn't make a difference. 

Dark thoughts of how this may be the end flashed through his mind. There was so much he had not been able to do. What of the quest for the mountain? Or poor Nori? 

Dori slipped further and this time Ori felt his heart jump into his throat as they began the long plummet down. Terror seized him as his firm grip went loose. The brothers cried out, watching the wizard's frightened face dwindle in their sight. Then something unexpected happened. 

Ori landed. Except he landed much sooner than he had expected and, when he hit, he didn't splatter like an egg. In fact, though the wind was knocked clean out of him, he seemed to be quite alright laying atop something warm and firm and… feathery? He opened his eyes and gazed out… It was moving as well! 

For a moment, Ori didn't know what to think or do and he simply laid there struggling to get back his breath on the back of the winged creature. Finally, the relief washed over him and he came to his senses. He was alive! And he was flying?! The young dwarf could barely believe it. He turned to face his older brother, who was still in shock, and had to announce the wonderful news, "Dori, we're ALIVE!" 


	58. Run and Run and Run

Osgar was sitting at the huge dining table in his father's house. A fire roared in the enormous fireplace to his left. The dull orange glow glittered marvellously off the glassware set atop the ebony wood slab. He sat alone in the large hall, quietly sipping a hot rabbit stew. His mind whirled in circles as he pondered the events of the day. He was musing about one particular affair when he sensed something and a soft noise on the edge of hearing tickled his ears. He gently placed his spoon down upon the tabletop and scanned the dim room. Nothing seemed out of place… A hint of movement caught in his lower peripheral vision and suddenly, before he could even react, a dog's muzzle shot up between his legs.

Osgar startled and gaped down at the dog, which he was now realising was actually a puppy, a wet, muddy puppy. He growled as he saw that his trousers were now soaked and also covered in the slick mud dripping from the pup's wet coat.

Perhaps the small, sable girl perceived the frustration and anger kindling in the old elf or perhaps she merely seen that he was now engaged in what could very well turn into a fun game. She didn't tell, but her bright orange eyes lit up suddenly and she moved a gigantic, hairy paw unto his lap, soaking him more as she tried to climb onto his lap.

Osgar should have known the pup would try to climb up. "No!" He said firmly, but she didn't listen and furthered her endeavour. He grunted, trying to deflect her smelly breath with his hand. Finally after a few moments of struggling with her on his lap, he decided it would be best to force her down. He skidded the chair back and was able to push her off. She came off easily… _A little_ _too easily_ , he thought sceptically. Then he saw what that puppy had in her mouth. She stood just out of arm's reach with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and a small, silver whistle between her teeth.

"How?!" He asked to no one in particular. He stood quickly and began the chase to get his precious heirloom whistle back from the dog, leaving his stew to cool.


	59. Valinor

Elros sat gently on the stone bench beside the sea. It wasn't the first time he had been here.

The sighing waves forever lapped at the golden shore's knees. An eternal rhythm that never faded nor faltered. The gulls, gliding far above in the huge expanse, called wistfully into the high heavens. Their harsh almost raucous cries awakened the sea longing in his heart with a new, burning passion. The unmistakable yearning that was nearly as timeless and unending as the sea's ancient melody.

He closed his eyes and just felt. He felt everything. For a moment, the sand under his bare feet was put into stark reality. He could feel the rough texture and the warmth it had borrowed from the sun. The salty breeze caressed his cheek echoing the touch of the one he had loved. The one he still loved with all of his heart. Tears threatened to escape. Soon, very soon, he would see her again… in Valinor.


	60. Leaf

He sat in the shade of a tree in another land than the one he called home. Trees of a type he had never seen before stood in stone silence about him. They towered above him, tall and dark in the twilight. The moon hung in a slim crescent far above the thick forest, shining rather brightly in the clear air. Not one cloud marred the cold, hard sky. Glittering points, aeons old, looked down on him from the firmament.

He turned his thoughts away from the ever watchful stars. They reminded him of what once was. What had he now? Had he ever had anything to begin with? _No,_ he thought despairingly. He was alone and he had always been alone. Fair Luthien never loved him. Perhaps, as a friend but never as nothing more. Daeron hung his head and looked on his sole possession: his silver lyre.

Suddenly, a soft breeze whispered throughout the still air. It rustled the leaves, moving them in a smooth entrancing dance above him. A single green leaf landed in his lap. He looked up in wonder at the swaying branches in the silver light. The gentle breeze filled him with warmth he had not felt before. It gave him something he dared to hope was real. The little leaf stayed in his lap, not moving with the wind or leaving.

A heavy, deep sound echoed throughout the forest. It sounded like a voice. It hummed in a soft, slow tune. Daeron smiled, despite himself and the circumstances, and let the dream continue, if it was a dream. He took up his lyre. Slowly, he started to sing with the trees…


	61. Oaths

That filthy dwarf puke. How dare he cut off _my_ hand?! His head shall be mounted on my wall. His flesh will be fed to my pet. I will make him bleed. He will kneel before me and beg for death. I vow this: The line of Durin _will_ fail. By my hand, it shall be! Mark this! There will never be another son. No, not one! His pain will be strict. Not one beating shall be stayed. The large, pale orc sneered as he pictured the dwarf prince kneeling before him in a pool of his own filthy blood. He coughed a sadistic laugh at that image. His precious beard ripped out! What a good sight. He gently petted his warg.

"You will taste Dwarf flesh soon enough!" He called as he kicked her into a run and made his way towards his prey. They were trapped now. He smirked as they climbed frantically into the firs. Such desperation… He was close now…


	62. A Difficult Road

Elros smiled, looking into the small glass jar at the small creature that sat in the jar. The creature inside was a little green turtle that his brother, Elvorn, had found in the reeds beside the stream. The turtle was a baby. It was crawling in the shallow water and scraping the sides of the glass jar. It seemed to be looking for a way to escape the transparent barrier.

"Elvorn, he seems to want to get out. You should put him back," Elros advised.

Elvorn continued gazing upon the tiny creature. "He is so cool!"

Elros sighed and rolled his eyes. "Elvorn, did you even hear me? I don't think he is good for a pet."

Elvorn suddenly took notice of his brother's comments. "But I want to keep him!" He whined.

Elros gave the turtle then his brother a hard stare. "I don't know…" A realisation came to him. "You have yet to ask Naneth! Don't set your heart till you have," he warned.

Elvorn pouted, but Elros saw the look of understanding come into his eyes. "Ahhh man! I forgot about that!" He suddenly looked up at his brother. "What do you think she will say?"

Elros felt his smile return. Seeing his brother so worried about what their mother would think was quite humorous. He decided he had better give him some encouragement. The small turtle didn't look like too bad a pet to own now that he really thought about it… "I bet she will like it as long you promise to take care of it and keep it clean."

Elvorn's face lit up at that. "You really think she will?"

Elros chuckled. "Well, we haven't asked her yet! Come, let us go!" He patted his younger brother's shoulder and together they quickly made their way back home. He hoped it wouldn't be too difficult to convince her.


	63. Fickle

**I really didn't know what else to do with this one**

* * *

He didn't know exactly what his place was anymore... He wanted to go home, to Valinor, but he couldn't make up his mind when exactly he should go. He felt some degree of hesitation, and for some reason he could not place why. He had nothing here save for a friend in Galion and a job as the Keeper of the Keys. What did that matter, though? Was he really that attached to this place? He had to keep his eyes on the future. A future of seeing his family again.

Then again, perhaps he was here for a reason. If not, why was he here? Surely he was needed somewhere. He should stay lest he miss his chance. At what though? It was all a circle of emotions that dizzied him every time he thought about it. Elros sighed and stood up from his seat on the stone staircase. He wanted to go home, but he felt he should stay. What did that mean, though? He didn't know. Only time would tell, and only time here on Middle Earth would count.


	64. New Race

**The twins are fairly young here.**

Elladan lounged idly on his stomach on the hard wood floor. He was busy reading a book about what he decided was the most boring subject in the world: history. Elrohir laid next to him on his back with his right leg crossed over his bent left knee. He stared at the arched ceiling contemplating and bobbing his foot. The late morning sunshine was shining harshly into the room by the tall windows. Elladan looked up from the pages and scrutinised his brother. He wondered what he was thinking of…

Elrohir suddenly rolled over and faced Elladan with a chuckle. "Hey, what do think a Dwarf-Elf mix would look like?"

Elladan rolled his eyes. He knew that Elrohir had been thinking about something weird. He tried to imagine an answer. "I guess like a hairy, short elf. I guess."

Elrohir thought about it then his eyes it up. "You mean like a Man?!" He exclaimed with sudden mirth. Elladan had a laugh at that. He hadn't thought of that!

"Yeah, I guess so," he said.


	65. Hot

Thranduil sat miserable in the hot courtroom. The young, blonde-haired prince sat beside his father, Oropher. Thranduil really didn't know how the king was able to sit in here without breaking into a sweat. It was so hot… He thought of calling a servant to his side but decided against it. Instead, the prince tried to keep his mind occupied with what was going on before him. He needed to stay calm and cool in mind. He glanced at his father once again. He only wished he could look that under control even in this hot house.

Oropher was listening to a vassal giving some case or complaint before the king. The tall elven lord sat relaxed upon his throne, each arm casually draping an armrest and one leg crossed over the other. Such an air of power emanated from him that Thranduil himself shifted slightly, nervous to be in the presence of such an authoritative ruler. However, he caught himself and straightened his back, once more trying to put on a stoic face. It would have been easier to do if he were not roasting alive. In fact, Thranduil really didn't care what it was the little elf wanted. He just wished his father would come to a decision already!

Finally, Oropher held up a hand, silencing the elf man. "I will grant your request." That was all he said.

The elf made a grateful face and bowed low to the ground. "Thank you, my lord."

Oropher waved his hand, and two Elite Guards led the ellon out. Once the doors were closed, the king sighed heavily, running a hand through his long silver hair. He looked to his only son apologetically. "Vala, it is _hot_. Come on, iôn we need some air…" He stood quickly to leave, Thranduil following grateful.


	66. The Image Of Perfection

Elros stood at the bridge gate. It was a quiet evening. Soon, his shift would be over. The sound of water rushing under the stone bridge echoed clearly off the rugged grey rocks of the ravine. It was a sharp fall to the bottom from the walkway and a great protection against invaders. He was reminded of the tales of Menegroth. Elros knew that the king had, indeed, made this fortress in remembrance of the once glorious city now lost under the sea. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes and imagining what the city of a Thousand Caves would look like during this time of the day. He envisioned it to be beautiful beyond measure during sunset.

He snorted slightly now wondering which was more brilliant. Surely the original had been an image of perfection, but when he opened his eyes and saw the sunlight glinting off the tumbling waters, lighting the waves with a golden hue that sparkled off the high riding foam like drops of silver glass… when he saw the broad rays of fading light stretching through the treetops of his homeland and warming the grey stone bridge with one last kiss… he knew that this, a mere replica though it was, would always be the most magnificent. At the very least to its guardian.


	67. Far Fetched

Bruion smiled happily as he scooped up the rough stick from the lake's beach head. Elgelir jumped back excitedly, his eyes gleaming with unrelenting mirth. The large, brown furred mutt kept his eyes fixed upon the branch that Bruion now held high, ready to throw. The elf let the stick fly with a strong toss into the deep water. Elgelir immediately sprang into action launching himself into the water to chase the object. It had sailed very far, landing with a small splash in the centre of the sizable lake. 

Bruion watched the dog proudly. He was a good dog. A great dog. And it was moments like this: seeing the pup so full of energy and pure, unadulterated joy… That made him love the dog so much more. 

The faithful hound heaved out from the water, sloshing liquid everywhere, and onto the beach once again. He shook with abandon then trotted back to his master. The dog placed the stick on the ground at Bruion's feet and jumped backwards again, prepared for many more throws. Bruion could only grin and indulge the soaking dog. 


	68. Hunting

Elros found his brother exactly where he had guessed he would: just outside of the palace near the parade grounds. Elvorn was sitting under an oak tree and sharpening his knife, looking slightly uneasy. He didn't look up as Elros settled beside him on the green sward, but kept his eyes on the whet stone and his attention on the blade. He knew exactly why his brother had come. The elf could read him so well it was sometimes uncanny, but it wasn't always a bad thing. Indeed, Elros had been his rock for many years, but right now Elvorn couldn't help wishing his brother wouldn't have found him… He should have chosen a different spot. Elvorn waited quietly for the inevitable "What is wrong?" to be spoken. It didn't, however.

"We should go hunting together again," Elros said as he stretched nonchalantly, popping in various places before settling against the bole of the tree. His voice was light and held a touch of excitement.

Elvorn continued the rhythmic motions of sharpening. He was somewhat surprised his brother hadn't mentioned anything about his recent mood. Elvorn was certain he had noticed. It was a somewhat pleasant surprise and his brother's suggestion did sound like a good idea. They hadn't gone hunting in so long, not for pleasure or sport at least, for some time. It could very well be a great way to get his mind off the burdens of the past weeks.

"What do you say, muindor?" Elros asked, giving Elvorn a soft pat on the shoulder. "We could just go out and track. It will be fun, just like old times."

Elvorn finally placed the knife down and looked up. He couldn't help but smile when he seen his brother's sparkling eyes. How many times had he been the pestering little brother bothering _Elros_ to go for a hunt, he didn't know, but it was a touching role change. In fact, he kind of liked it. He thought for a moment longer while holding Elros' gaze. It would be good to go out for a day. He spoke, "Alright. When do you want to go?"

 **Thank you to the guest reviewer Shower. I'm glad you liked it and thanks for the review :)**


	69. Wayward

Elrond fell to his knees on the scarred ground. He didn't know how much more he could take. All around him people were dying. It felt like it would never ever end. The smoke and ashes burned his eyes, blurring his vision. His lunges heaved in the poisonous atmosphere. Exhausted limbs trembled and ached with adrenaline.

This war was endless. The dark lord held mastery and even with their planning all hell was coming down upon them. The Ring and It's master was unstoppable. He couldn't stand all this. This...

The pain, anger, fear. Years and years of being held down by fear of the black menace that had plagued his family for millennia. Doubt of whether they would ever be rid of its shadow nearly overcame him.

His filthy hands loosened around the hilt of his sword. He was vaguely aware of the clang the blade made as it hit the floor. The din of war and the chaos about him overwhelmed his senses.

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind. His captain moved to the forefront of his watery vision. He was speaking to him but he couldn't hear him. Why couldn't he hear him?! He wanted to curl into a ball and cry at the futility of it all. Tears and a free falling sensation rushed over him.

Gil-Galad lifted the elf onto his shoulders and called for a way to be made through the fighting. Elrond had finally had enough after weeks of fighting. Quickly, he carried the other ellon from the battlefront. He wasn't sure how much of this he could take either.


	70. Metal

Eöl stood in a large field… He rarely left his forest, but tonight was a new moon and the temptation to watch the age-old stars unmolested by moonlight was too much. He brooded on the edge of Nan Elmoth feeling the light touch of the night breeze. It sighed over the tall grass, surrounding his realm with quiet comforting whispers. Sharp pinpoints hung glittering in the dark expanse above the elf. His dark eyes roamed the diamond-studded velvet and his ever churning mind went through the events of the day… One of the stars above leapt in sudden flame. It shimmered brightly for a moment then plummeted down towards the earth, glowing an intense orange.

Eöl startled from his reverie and watched the falling gem keenly. For a brief moment, he feared it would land too near him, but his fears did not come to fruition. The large hunk of ancient sky landed far on the edge of sight with one last shoot of fire. Quickly and quietly, he called for his horse, which was standing close gazing. The dark elf mounted and rode off to inspect this new finding…


	71. Celebration

**This was written for Hobbit Day... so Happy Belated Birthday to the hobbits!**

* * *

It was his birthday today. Today, Bilbo Baggins and his younger cousin and heir, Frodo Baggins, were turning a year older. The aging hobbit sat beside his front room window, letting the afternoon sun warm him up.

Outside, autumn was just beginning to show itself. The breeze was picking up and the sun shone with a deep golden light through the dirty, silver pane. Bilbo reminded himself to tell the lad, Frodo, to clean that up later. He wondered when that young hobbit would show up… As if to answer his worries, Bilbo caught sight of the dark haired youth tramping up the path towards the hobbit hole. _Finally,_ the elder hobbit thought to himself. He quickly stood and hastily made his way to the kitchen. He had prepared the cake a while ago and had been waiting patiently. They would be having a rather private celebration this day, but Bilbo wouldn't be surprised if they were joined by unannounced guests as the evening went on.

The sound of the round, wooden door opening creaked up the hallway. "Bilbo! I am home!" Frodo called. "Sorry I am a bit late, but I ran into Merry and Pippin."

Bilbo very quickly lit the candles atop the cake… He didn't want the lad to come in and find him unprepared. Luckily, Frodo seemed to be taking his time. "Bilbo?" Frodo's voice held a bit of suspicion. The sound of the youth's feet shuffling up the hall way into the kitchen…

There! Bilbo blew out the match and snapped his head up just as Frodo entered the kitchen and his bright blue eyes landed square on the very large, well-lit cake sitting on the counter. "Surprise!" Bilbo happily exclaimed.

Frodo's face lit up in surprise and joy. Bilbo clapped his hands and moved around the table to give the boy a hug. "Happy birthday to us both!" He said with a chuckle.

Frodo grinned. "Thank you! Yes, happy birthday to us both!" He said, joining the older hobbit in laughter.

The two hobbits enjoyed their private birthday party. Enjoying a hefty supper and dinner then topping off the evening with cake. They were joined by a few close friends, but otherwise the two enjoyed the rest of the day relaxing, telling (in Bilbo's case) and hearing stories together.


	72. Stealing

How many times had he sat on this balcony and seen her go? How many times had he sat here all alone and watched the memory replay through his mind? He knew the exact number. He knew that precise number of hours he had sat here alone watching her leave. The lord of Imladris sat there now, bathed in soft moonlight. The quiet night stood still around him. His dark hair hung loose down his back. A silent breeze toyed gently with the raven locks, mimicking the feeling of a lover's hands. The rough stone banister felt cold against his hands.

Memories of that night when he had looked out on this balcony replayed through his memory. That night he had stood out watching the same moon rise over the same falls. He remembered making one of the hardest decisions he had ever made in his long life, standing on this balcony. Now, he had to make another choice.

He didn't allow himself to feel sorry for himself like last time. It didn't make him feel better. What would heal him from all this pain? For once, he didn't have a cure. His drug had been stolen from him.


	73. Earth

Elros shoved the trowel into the dark ground. Another lump of dirt landed into the growing pile. The trees of the Greenwood were beginning to turn a brilliant golden colour. The branches overhung partially over the plot and, at this later time of day, shade fell onto the large garden he and his wife had made together. He was a worker of wood not a gardener. His hands were made for the sculpting of trees, but today was special.

The Nandorin elf grinned at the thought of the reason why he was here. Soft footsteps sounded behind him and drew nearer. His beautiful wife knelt down beside him with a smile. In her hands was a tiny seedling: an oak sapling. "Just about ready," he said still beaming. _Vala, he was happy._ It was a good day.

He dug a bit more. _There_. He turned to Rhinchel and she gently placed the young tree into its place. The two of them finished covering back up the hole. He leaned back and watched her continue to smooth the dark earth for a moment. How beautiful she really was never failed to amaze him. Finally, she was happy with the results of their little Begetting Tree.

She moved to his side and said with sparkling eyes, "Aearon or Aeariel?"

He kissed her gently. "I can't wait to find out."


	74. Retaliation

**Anonymous Elven soldier on the way towards battle...**

Every trudging footfall took him another step towards retaliation. What he would meet on the other end of this long journey was uncertain. That uncertainty could eat away at him if he did not stay watchful. He told himself that somethings were certain... _No, nothing was certain save blood and war._


	75. Betrayal

**Warning: AU murder scene between a pair of twins I will leave unnamed.**

"I called you brother." He spoke quietly and would not look into the icy eyes staring at him, through him. He felt so alone and vulnerable, naked and crushed. Ebony hair fell from his shoulders over the frosted plates of his armour. His thigh was haemorrhaging profusely onto the snowy ground. "Why?" He whispered painfully. He didn't expect an answer.

The one before him took a step forward. His heavy leather boots crunched softly on the frozen ground. His tall shadow fell over the kneeling ellon, the one that he, indeed, had called _brother_.

A sharp blade point touched the younger's neck just above the larynx causing a small bead of dark blood to show itself. The kneeling one's voice box bobbed gently as he swallowed agonisingly over the threatening tears. Maybe he would never know why, but he would not be afraid. His brother wasn't murdering him… This was a stranger.


	76. Harbour

Elrond sat at his desk working on a paper his father, Maglor, had assigned to him. It was supposed to 'further' his knowledge on the various ancient people that had passed over Ered Hithlum. Elrond had been working on it for an hour, but he was beginning to feel his attention drift. He turned from his desk to face his brother, Elros, who was also working across the room on the same exact paper. "Hey, Elros what should we do?"

Elros didn't look away from his work. "What does that mean?"

"I'm bored." Elrond whined.

"Want to go the harbour?" Elros stayed bent over his writing.

"Sure." There was a pause. That sounded like a good idea. At the moment he would do anything to get out of finishing that paper. "What are we going to do at the harbour?" Elrond asked curiously.

Elros shrugged. "I don't know but can't we find that out when we get there." He placed his pencil down and stood up, facing Elrond.

Elrond nodded. His brother's idea made sense. He himself stood up and ran to the window. "Let's go!" He said excitedly as he climbed out the window.


	77. Threats

**Excerpt from Keeper of the Keys**

A deep gravelly voice resonated from the dark figure. He stood tall, an ominous void in the dimly lit stone chamber. His words sent a chill down the elf's spine as the elf stood before the malevolent presence. "You're running out of time."

The elf dropped his head as fear gripped his heart. "I am trying, my lord."

"Try harder."


	78. Rebellion

"Eat your vegetables, Elros." The dark-haired ellon gave his son a firm glare.

Young Elros merely continued twirling his fork. He did not look up at his father, nor did he meet the gaze of his mother.

The ellon spoke again, "Elros, you need to eat them. You're not leaving the table till you have."

When the elfling once again did not show any signs of eating the said morsels, Halvorn reached over and seized the fork. "Alright, that's it. You're eating with your hands and you're eating now."

Elros gave a hard stare, crossing his tiny arms across his chest. Halvorn met the boy's dark eyes. They sat in silent opposition for a good long moment. Then suddenly the little elfling began to stuff vegetables into his mouth, making faces but eating nonetheless.


	79. The Lion and the Mouse

The king sat upon his royal throne in magnificent splendour. His shimmering crimson robe draped over the polished wood dais as the luxurious cloth cascaded down to the lord's feet. A dark sceptre rested upon his lap and a gleaming white-jewelled brooch adorned his chest. Silver blonde hair fell down his back and shoulders. His head was crowned with myriad twisted flowers. Icy blue eyes glared down at the one before him.

A scrawny brown-haired ellon stood defiantly in front of the king. His confidence, however steadily declined as the lord spoke, "Treason is punishable by a lifetime in my dungeon. For such a crime as that, is it not just?"

The elf in question swallowed audibly. He had known the risk, but perhaps he could still get out of this. "It is, my lord. However, may I be so bold as to offer a bargain in recompense for my acts?"

The king stared coldly, not taking the bait that the ellon had so obviously shown.

Galion quickly amended his mistake with a tactful addition. "A lifetime in the dungeon is years long, but let me pledge my service and self to you, my lord. For I am convicted." Galion knelt down and pressed his face towards the cool stone floor.

The king thought about this new proposition. The elf's sincerity was questionable, but what could he gain from keeping an elf willing to bind himself with oath? Finally, Thranduil answered, "Very well."


	80. Gems and Jewels

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was walking past Bag End in the morning. The weather was beautiful but her mind was settled on other things. She had honestly thought that Bilbo had truly moved off far away, but apparently, that was not the case. The hobbit lass debated whether or not to scamper past the large estate or dare to look through a window… She had heard that Bilbo had not come back from his "journey" (wherever that had been) empty handed. In fact, the word was out that the hobbit had brought back treasure. _I wonder if that is true_ , she thought.

Hesitantly, she stepped through the gate at Bag End and, almost before she realised what she was doing, stealthily made her way around towards the window looking into the bedroom. It was still early in the morning and no doubt Bilbo was freshening up in the other room.

Curiosity overtook her and she peered through the window. The hobbit's room was a mess for one thing. She couldn't understand why Bilbo hadn't gotten his house in order by now. It had been a week and half since he returned… A sudden silvery glitter caught her eye. It originated from a half open, small wooden chest. The gleam shone brightly and rather marvellously for an instant like a diamond. The small pinprick captivated her eyes….

Till a shadow appeared on the opposite wall and Lobelia had to quickly duck out of sight. She hastily skittered away until she was a very safe distance from Bag End then stopped. What had she saw? Was the story true? That had certainly been a jewel of some sort… She wondered if the whole chest had been full. _Well, of course… I mean, who would keep just one jewel in a chest?_


	81. Arrow

The twins sat silently in the undergrowth side by side and waiting for the perfect moment to take a shot at their prey… Or maybe not. The bird they were hunting was not giving them any clearer lines of sight and it had been a long time since they had spotted the creature. Elrohir very slowly scooted closer to Elladan and whispered in his ear, "I don't think he is coming down."

Elladan did not take his eyes off the bird but dipped his head in acknowledgement. "You're probably right." Very carefully, Elladan maneuvered into a more upright position.

Elrohir followed his brother's suit but startled when a sharp twang and flash of movement flourished from the corner of his eye. Elladan stood suddenly in triumph. "Whoop! I got him!"

Elrohir, still somewhat confused and recovering from the scare, squinted up at his excited twin and raised his eyebrow in query.

His eyes gleaming with mirth, Elladan spoke, "I shot him through with an arrow!"

Now, Elrohir was present enough to realise exactly what his brother had said. "No, seriously?"

Elladan nodded, "Yeah! Let's go get him."

Elrohir hoisted himself to his feet and followed his beaming twin in search of the prized bird.


	82. Documentation

**The documentation isn't exactly clear in this, I know, but it is there if you squint :P**

A small blonde-haired girl ran down the stone steps of a gilded palace. Her older brother followed her grinning with his own messy yellow locks flying behind him. The two siblings filled the house with merry laughter. They ran down to the archives and suddenly the two came to a stop. The many books and scrolls within the chamber enchanted the two Rohirrim children. Brother and sister stepped further in.

"Look how many books, Éomer!" Éowyn skipped in between the stacks and twirled.

Éomer was somewhat more cautious but his little sister's enthusiasm was contagious. He laughed and began to explore the archives. It did not take Éowyn long for her to find a book that seemed interesting to her. "Éomer, please read me one. Please read me this one." She pointed to the one that had caught her attention.

Éomer moved to the large ornate book. He hefted it into his arms and the two found a comfortable spot to listen to the story.


	83. Handicapped

**This is definitely a loophole but handicap can be defined as "to place a person at disadvantage" so hey :P**

The filthy, grey creature writhed on the stone floor. His whiny voice filled the dungeons of King Thranduil with nonstop pitiful cries. Every so often an intelligible sentence would squeak out from between the barred gates. The voice always complained about the chains. He hated the chains.

"Nasty, cold iron. It burnssssssss ussss! Take it away nasty elfses! _Gollum_! _Gollum_!"


	84. Waybread

Lord Elrond sat in his study quietly working on paperwork when the sound of soft footsteps caused the lord to turn around and face his adopted son, Estel.

The small six-year-old boy was standing in the doorway with his tiny arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. His sad grey eyes met those of his father's and his little voice squeaked out, "Ada, my tummy hurts me."

Lord Elrond rose and knelt before the young man. His voice was full of concern as he questioned exactly what had happened to his clearly distressed son. "What happened, Estel?" At that moment, Elrond noticed scattered crumbs sticking to the boy's tunic. "What's that?" He asked, suddenly curious and gently brushing the titbits off. The lord's mind was beginning to guess at what may have happened.

Young Estel met his father's gaze with all innocence. "I ate cookies, ada."

Elrond's eyebrow rose. He knew it. "Okay, come on. Why don't we lay down?" Very carefully the raven-haired lord scooped up his son and took him to his bedroom.


	85. Crossing the Line

**All I am going to say is… I have no idea. Sometimes my mind is random :p**

"Elros, why are you always doing that?"

Elros' head jerked up from the book he had been reading. He met his wife's beautiful blue eyes. "What, my dear?"

Rhinchel sighed, giving Elros a level stare. "You keep messing with your trousers."

Elros felt the blood rush to his face. She wasn't supposed to have seen his attempts at correcting himself. "Uh, I'm sorry dear but… well, it was riding up."

Rhinchel sighed once more. "Every fifteen minutes you keep doing it so please stop. Its fine once but all the time is crossing the line."

The dark-haired elf lowered his eyes in the face of his wife's annoyance. "I'm sorry. I'm trying."


	86. Down the River

Elros and Galion both stood stock still gazing down the river at a swiftly disappearing, bright red spot. That particular spot had indeed been Galion's newest piece of headwear. Elros was the first to speak. "I didn't mean to knock it off that way."

The butler just stared off into the roiling white foam that had devoured his newest possession.

"I really didn't mean to…" Elros once again began. His friend's behaviour was beginning to worry him. He truly hadn't meant to…

After a very long tension filled silence, Galion finally spoke with a sigh, "I didn't like it anyways."


	87. Justice

Elrond plunged the filthy sword deeper through the orc's thick armour. He heard the crunch as metal and bone split from the sheer force. Gore spattered his face but he did not close his eyes. No, he met the foul creature's agony-filled gaze. Clear blue eyes searched the dark voids of a savage as the beast died. This was justice. He wasn't fighting for the kill; he was fighting for something higher. The orcs were just standing in the way.


	88. The Nature of Evil

**Berethor is a character from the video game Lord of the Rings: The Third Age.**

The fell beast swooped down from above. It nearly took his head off. A shill high pitched scream echoed throughout the burning stone city following the strafing. Everywhere around him death loomed like a black shadow. The man of Gondor screwed his eyes shut and desperately tried to block out the horrible noise.

Finally, it passed and Berethor was able to upright himself from the crouched position he had taken. The White City was overcome. All men were soon to be consumed by the evil stretching its black hand outwards from Mordor. He grit his teeth and gave a harsh growl. Here was one man who would not fall without a fight. Swiftly, he took up his sword and charged toward the battle line once more.


	89. First Word

**The monkey is back :P btw this is the first time I've written babies so idk how it turned.**

Elrond sat on the soft, light grey rug in the middle of the twins' nursery room. It was a small cosy room filled with soft afternoon light emanating from the high windows. Elrond was gazing down with a grin on his face as he watched his two young sons. The dark-haired infants were playing tug of war with a stuffed monkey.

The Lord of Imladris' silver eyes followed the tiny movements of Elladan's arms as the little ellon suddenly won over the strength of his younger brother, tearing the monkey from Elrohir's grasp.

Elrohir immediately began screaming, surprising Elrond with the an intelligible word: "No!"


	90. Friends Forever

"Goodbye Bill," Sam whispered sadly as he waved the sorrel pony off. The stout hobbit fought back tears as Bill began his long journey back home. He hoped the pony would make it back safely. He hoped the pony knew where his home was… Quickly, Sam called out in concern to the little beast. "Watch out for those lit'l cliffs on the way back, Bill!"

Oh how he would miss that little pony.


	91. Flaunting

**This was something funny I came up with… with help :p**

"Saruman, did you see my new bag?" Gandalf gave his higher in command a level stare, searching for some sign of the white wizard's recognition.

Unfortunately, Saruman did not show any traces of noticing Gandalf's new bag. The grey wizard pushed the idea a little bit harder. "I bought it in Minas Tirith on my last journey, you know. It is the _finest_ fabric in all of Gondor."

Saruman continued reading the transcript in his hands, not noticing Gandalf's ongoing boasts. The grey wizard had been going about this for several minutes… on and on and on about his new bag…

Gandalf happily inspected the satchel for the umpteenth time undeterred. "And I just love these neat little straps."

 _Just nod and stay focused,_ the Maia reminded himself. 


	92. Fight On

The raven-haired ellon panted unceasingly as he desperately tried to bring air into his lungs. Meanwhile, his body kept moving with just as much effort. His fingers dug into the dark, ashen ground, searching for purchase on the steep slope. Gory, caked up boots scrambled to find any support on the quickly receding ground beneath his feet. The entirety of his being shook with barely contained panic.

A hoarse roar sounded behind Elrond, startling the officer further and spurring even more vigour into Elrond's labours. It was nearing. Soon, the beast would be within range to grab him. Heavy footsteps grew louder.

The ellon didn't waste any time sparing a glance at the giant troll. Instead, Elrond fixed his steel eyes on the ledge above him. Finally, his yearning digits found a hold. Without wasting any time, Elrond pulled his shaking form over the edge and onto more solid ground where the beast couldn't reach him. He breathed a sigh of instant relief.

This war was going to be the death of him. Next time, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.


	93. Inner Beauty

The old, bent figure leaned over a tiny hole in the dark earth. His staff lay on the ground close at hand and his beard tickled the undergrowth surrounding the insect's home.

Suddenly, the flat, oval shaped, brown insect he had been waiting for peeped her head out.

"Oh, hello. Have you come for your breakfast?" Radagast questioned.

The small creature swayed her segmented body in response.

Radagast cracked a bright smile and dug into one of his many pockets, retrieving a little morsel of his cookie and offering it to the cockroach. "Well then, here you go and be sure to save some for yourself. The babies will be fine. There's plenty."

She once again swayed in agreement then turned around to bring the meal to her nymphs in the hole.

Smiling, the brown wizard watched her disappear to resume her hard labour of watching over the next generation. "What a good mama."


	94. Parlay

**I had this idea one day googling hard yoga poses.**

He scowled as Galion carefully looked him over. It was somewhat unnerving to have the older elf scrutinizing him. "You're not going to be able to do it," the butler muttered.

Elros felt his body start to shake. His balance was almost lost… He took a breath and found his sense of stability once again. He lifted his right hand to complete the pose. The young doorkeeper was in the demanding position of the one-handed tree pose. Galion marvelled at the Nandorin elf's ability to hold the stance.

"I did it," The doorkeeper pronounced triumphantly. "Now it is your turn." Elros flipped himself onto his feet and grinned. He immediately made his way to a table on which a bottle of wine sat. He took a large swig from the bottle of Dorwinion. "Four drinks say you cannot do… The scorpion."

Galion huffed, but, inwardly grimaced. He didn't have the flexibility to pull that one off and he knew it. "What about if we just decided to call it a draw?"

Elros gave the butler a knowing smile. Even after only a few months of friendship, the two had developed a rapport. "Deal, but only if I get the rest of the Dorwinion."

Galion sighed. "Fine," he conceded. He gave Elros one more look "May I get one more drink?" He asked innocently.

Elros mulled the request over…This was his winning… Galion gave him a hopeful look. "Alright. One."


	95. Fountain

**Post-BOFA**

A copper-haired, svelte elleth sat upon the lip of a deep basin of a quietly burbling fountain within the Halls of Thranduil King. Her emerald eyes glided smoothly over the many curves and outlines carved into the rough stone. Delicate ripples danced upon the face of the water, reflecting the high arched ceiling above the figure.

Tauriel had been sitting near the water source for some time lost in thought and memory. Her many thoughts danced like the water through her consciousness. She allowed the subtly sweet murmuring of the fountain to soothe the rogue imaginings.

Unexpectedly, her glance caught a stray glint of reflected firelight bouncing off a jet stone and memories flooded back to her. Memories of _him_.


	96. I Know You, But Where?

"What do you mean by 'good morning'? Do you…"

Bilbo listened to the cheery, grey old man speak. But while the merry voice was going on about what Bilbo had meant by his 'good morning', the hobbit was searching desperately in his mind. A supremely nagging feeling that Bilbo had seen this bushy old man before continually flummoxed the hobbit.

Bilbo answered the man…. He knew he had seen this man somewhere. Now, if only he could remember… Could he have seen him near the party tree? Or perhaps at the butcher?

The mention of the word "adventure" snapped the hobbit from his guesses. Now what was this hairy newcomer talking about?!


	97. My Weapon's Name

He sat in an old wooden chair beside a roaring red fire. The cold, sparse room filled with the hue from the flames. Elros' dark eyes, however, remained fixed on a leather wrapped sword propped in the corner.

That rugged silver blade had been his for some time now, yet one thing was incomplete about it. The sword had no name.

Elros had been alone thinking about this. Memories had been replaying vividly within his mind for nearly an hour, whilst he searched for a proper name. Finally, one fit for such a blade came to him: Saervelos, for it came in the bitter winter.


	98. Finally

He stepped out of the dusty old halls into the clear clean air. The moment his bare feet hit the black rocky shore, the sounds of the living realm assaulted the copper-haired ellon. The rumbling tumbling waves beating against the beachhead echoed in the salty atmosphere. A seabird soaring high above the caerulean surfs gave a shill cry that cut through the high blue heavens above him. The sky seemed impossibly large, spackled with myriad downy clouds.

A sea of vivid green beach grass undulated in rhythm to the whistling breeze. Individual blades of sward glistened, reflecting the brilliant golden sunlight.

He breathed in a deep breath of the cool, free sensation of unshackled abandon. Maedhros son of Fëanor was finally returned to the land of the living.


	99. Ships

**Warning: AU death scene. I was inspired by the song "Into the West" featured in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King**

Elros laid the limp body of his friend gently upon the dusty ground. Crimson blood pooled from a deep wound on the small butler's side. The elf's pale, muddy face was contorted in agony at the movement. Galion's whole form shivered uncontrollably. Elros took his best friend's hand in his own and held it tightly as he knelt beside Galion. "No," he whispered desperately over the painful lump in his throat. This couldn't be happening... Not again.

The butler swallowed down the blood overcoming his breath and spoke softly to his friend. "I see ships, mellon nín," he said shakily and forcing himself to half smile.

Through his blurring vision, Elros smiled too. His bottom lip was starting to quiver and he felt the watershed beginning to break, but he smiled nonetheless for his best friend. That and the butler had taken him off guard with that smile… A knack Galion had since the beginning… He felt the first tears drop. Inhaling sharply, he nodded bringing Galion's cold, hand to his lips. "I love you, gwador." He needed to say that.

Galion closed his eyes trying to focus on the fading sound of his dearest friend's voice as the vision of the silver, grey boat clarified and drew nearer. Before Elros had placed the butler's hand back down, Galion had passed into the care of Mandos.


	100. Beyond the Circles of the World

Thranduil stood solemnly at the front of the assembly. Silver tears threatened to ride down the king's perfect face.

A group of golden warriors worked tirelessly to complete a grave on the now silent battlefield. The last rays of a brilliant sunset sprayed pink, orange, and red shafts of light across the molten sky. The ceremonial division was preparing for the burial of the king's steed, an elk named Gladford who had fallen in battle.

The king carefully reigned in his emotions. He had to be strong in front of his people. Finally, the officers began to carefully lower the huge, blanketed body of his beloved elk. Gladford had been his own for many long years and now seeing his best friend go down into the grave was… It was painful. The silver-haired ellon bit down hard upon his lip. The thought that he would never see his beloved friend again was suddenly too much. He was going to miss him… The tears fell.

While the warriors worked, he simply stood in silence unable to cope until the last glimmers of sun faded from the world.

 **That was the last drabble of the 100-Drabble Challenge. I would like to thank everyone who has read this challenge. I do hope you enjoyed them. I know I myself did enjoy writing them. To all those future readers, thanks for taking a look. Well, that's all for now. You've reached the end. Farewell till next time.**


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